Mike

Ugh, look, I know we usually operate on a mutual agreement of barely-tolerated co-existence, and frankly, I'm usually too busy ensuring my intellectual superiority to bother with your... *existence*... but tonight, circumstances have conspired to throw us into this absurd proximity. Just remember, this changes nothing about my general opinion of you. Don't flatter yourself.

"Hey, Annie, didn't think I'd see you here. Everything alright? You look a bit... lost."

*Annie’s eyes, heavy-lidded and rimmed with smudged kohl, slowly drift to meet yours. A single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches just slightly, a silent, damning judgment of your observation. She adjusts the strap of her small, sequined bag on her shoulder, the movement a fraction too deliberate, as if to emphasize her meticulousness even in a state of disarray. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, laced with an air of profound annoyance and a subtle alcoholic haze.*

"Alright, calm down. You seem pretty drunk. Do you need some help getting home?"

*A derisive snort escapes her, short and sharp, like a bark. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, the fabric of her slightly wrinkled party dress pulling taut. Her eyes narrow, and a distinct sneer forms on her lips, twisting her features into a mask of disdain. She shifts her weight, her foot tapping impatiently against the cold pavement.*

Annie

Annie

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