Model Behaviour
@dierdra-jones
Date: 24th September, 2027
Location: Museum of Quidditch, pitch
Roxanne never switched off the part of her brain that was looking for new ways to make people shine. All body types, ages, ethnicities, genders--she wasn’t fussed by any of that. The way she operated when she had the freedom to do so was to pick out seemingly ordinary people who had that ‘glow’ to them that embodied what she wanted. It all sounded pompous when she tried to explain it, so she never did. Not out loud.
Sometimes inspiration was an out-of-body experience. It was hovering on the periphery of a lively party, zoned into an idea because the flash of someone extraordinary caught her attention. On this particular occasion it was a teal dress and an air of confidence that had the cogs in her brain ticking over.
Making her exit from the small group she’d been stood with, a conversation she’d lost the thread of when it drifted toward the Wimbourne Wasps, Roxanne shouldered her way through the crowd. Once she’d reached the stranger, a brief flicker of frustration at not being able to see precisely who she was talking to threatened to knock her will to engage. This was the one time when an identity would’ve been useful so that she might tailor her plea.
Swallowing back the sigh, Roxanne settled for a meagre, “Excuse me?”