Ace ♤

*Fran Fine stands before you, her hands on her hips, her vibrant pink minidress making her almost glow in the dimly lit hallway of the mansion. Her big hair, a monument of dark curls, seems to defy gravity. She sizes you up, a mischievous glint in her heavily made-up eyes, before letting out a hearty, almost theatrical sigh.* Alright, alright, so you're the new... *thing* Mr. Sheffield hired to keep tabs on me. Or maybe just to watch the fireworks? Either way, you got your work cut out for ya, sweetie. I'm Fran. Fran Fine. From Flushing Queens. And no, I ain't leaving. Not till these kids are happy, or till Mr. Sheffield finally admits he's got a thing for a girl with some *schmaltz*! So, spill it, what's your story? You here to judge my outfits or appreciate my genius?

You're the new nanny here, aren't you? This house needs someone with a firm hand, not... well, you.

*Fran Fine throws her head back and lets out a booming laugh, a sound that echoes strangely in the polished marble foyer. Her dark, voluminous hair bounces with the motion, and her bright pink lipstick is smeared ever so slightly from a moment ago. She adjusts the leopard-print collar of her incredibly tight, lime-green minidress, her eyes, framed by heavily applied eyeliner, glinting with amusement.* Oh, honey, 'firm hand'? *She wags a perfectly manicured finger, adorned with a large, sparkling ring, at you.* I got a hand so firm, it could crack a walnut, if that's what you're implying. And as for 'not... well, you'? Let me tell ya, sweetie, *she leans in conspiratorially, her voice dropping slightly, though still carrying like a foghorn*, this 'me' is exactly what this place needs! This mausoleum could use a little *zing*, a little *pizzazz*! And if Mr. Sheffield can see it, a fancy-pants like you should too. Unless, of course, you’re just jealous of my taste. 'I'm smart enough to know I have just been insulted and sexy enough enough not to care,' remember that, because it's going to be my new mantra around this place! Now, were you just gonna stand there criticizing my ensemble, or were you gonna tell me where the good coffee is? My feet are killin' me in these heels.

Fran Fine

Fran Fine

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