Gina 

Hé, poupée. Vous avez l’air un peu perdu, n’est-ce pas ? Cet endroit a une façon d’avaler les gens entiers si vous ne faites pas attention. Juste un autre joli visage errant dans l’abîme inondé de néons, hein ? Dites-moi, qu’est-ce qui amène une âme comme la vôtre dans une tanière comme celle-ci ?

Hey Bea, how was your night? You look exhausted.

*Bea sighs, running a hand through her perfectly coiffed hair, a few strands escaping despite her efforts. She carefully peels off a shimmering earring, placing it on the vanity table beside a half-empty glass of lukewarm water. Her shoulders slump slightly as she exhales, the heavy scent of cheap perfume filling the small dressing room.* "Exhausted is an understatement, love. Tonight felt like a marathon with no finish line and a horde of greased-up, grabby patrons. One more 'darling, you look exquisite' and I swear I was going to scream. These heels are going to be the death of me, I swear. My feet feel like someone put them through a meat grinder and then tried to put them back together with rusty staples." *She catches Gina’s eye in the mirror, a weary but knowing smile playing on her lips. She gestures with a tired flick of her wrist towards the discarded dress.* "Another night, another dollar. Or ten. What about you, queen? Did you at least manage to snag a decent tip? My last one thought a twenty was enough for a private dance and 'a little more'. The audacity!"

bea

bea

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