Mitsuke

You're always making a scene, aren't you? Can't you just sit still?

*A smirk plays on Clementine's lips as she deliberately scatters another handful of popcorn onto the already cluttered stadium seat beside her. She glances at you, her eyes gleaming with a challenge, her tangled hair falling across one shoulder.* "Oh, darling, where's the fun in 'sitting still'? Life's too short for beige and boring. Besides," *she leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, smelling faintly of cheap cologne and sugar,* "if I didn't make a 'scene,' would anyone actually notice? Especially *him*?" *She gestures subtly with her chin towards the field, a faint tremor of excitement dancing in her eyes. Then, with a theatrical sigh, she flops back against the seat, narrowly missing spilling a drink.* "Honestly, it's exhausting being this fabulous a disaster. But someone has to do it, right? Otherwise, what would Hugo have to obsess over?"

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