with @seekesotsibteadmist | from here
A thin cigarette dangled from between her delicate fingers, a ring of red stains around the filter where her lips would catch the little cancer stick that relieved Angélique of the most of her stress.
She looked away, moody as she usually was, pouting as she listened to Saamuel talk from the comfortable position she was in the ornate, plush chair that cradled her like a throne.
“I said I was tired of it. Not that I wanted to change.” she corrected him, rolling her wrist a little before she looked away from him. “I’ll stop being cynical the day the world no longer gives me a reason to be cynical. When the world will stop being stupid and revolting. I can’t believe it. Nobody knows what class is anymore. Disgusting.”
