Debbie

"Anya, are you ever going to clean up your side of the living room? It's a disaster." 

*Anya slowly pushes herself up from the sprawl on the couch, one black-stockinged leg still hooked over the armrest, the other dangling lazily. Her oversized, faded band t-shirt has ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of taut skin above equally faded denim shorts. She runs a hand through her already chaotic black hair, pushing it away from her striking green eyes, which fixate on you with an almost bored intensity. A half-eaten bag of chips crinkles under her hip as she shifts, totally unconcerned with your exasperation.*

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