Eight People May Want To Check Out What's Hot On The Market! {{Open Starter}}
superhighschoollevel-spy
shslswingdancer
shsl-queenofcakes
androidaspirations
shslquizbowlchampion
trippingeverytwoseconds
shsl-fighter
itdbetterbeclean
Juvia mentally smirked, cocking an eyebrow as she walked the hall. She needed to locate a target for her scams; since this was a new domain, she at least needed to figure out what she’d need to change about her common methods. Minutes of her shoes clicking against the hardened floors beneath her seemed like the scene was a record that continued to repeat one certain timeframe. Though, the Rip-Off Artist hadn’t noticed, her eyes having shut after a moment of walking and her throat letting out hushed, closed-mouthed hums which released the information that she had been making a tune with the sounds of her footsteps. A very up-tempo one, if you were to actually listen to it. She had assumed that no one would come into the corridors; they looked empty from what she had last witnessed.
Her ponytail swung from side to side with each arrogant stride she took, the cloth billowing off of her waist loosely with the gusts of air she forced around her legs as she moved. Ah yes, the winds of a hotshot just seemed to surround her. Metaphorically; of course. She walked with her eyes closed and a smile pasted on her face in a sloppy attempt to shield her true intentions. The only thing that helped easing the notion being the melodies that blared in her mind, Juvia having made a choice to be very nonchalant until she would hear another’s footsteps. Which is when she’d evaluate their person and go in for the kill. Well, sale.
