#rbropen

[vivian-swanson]

Alright, that’s it. I get stitched into one more costume and I’m gonna scream. Exactly how many different wacky “interests” can the men of this city have?

[vivian-swanson]

"So, hypothetically, if I had extra cloth left over from garment making efforts would anyone want some? Clothing shaped or otherwise in all honesty.” 

[vivian-swanson]

What are you... 

Excuse me, the dressing rooms are private!

[vivian-swanson]

Rung Out

Despite it all, it was rare for Vivian to lose her temper. Getting snippy with the girls backstage was part of the trade, especially when true brawls happened in hushed whispers and sudden slaps not arguments over whose makeup was whose. Even in the face of the other mother’s at school or the hushed whispers that gathered when she had to scoop up more awful mail before Eloise could see, she found it easier to grit her teeth then rise to the bait.

She was already a harlot without even saying a word, best not to make worse by confirming with them that she was a shrew as well.

Today, though, had simply been...too much.

February meant an influx of men who either had no hope of a Valentine or had had the romance eek slowly out of their marriages from lack of effort. Which meant that with security stretched thin it was all too easy for hands to wander and linger. None of it was worth bringing to Yuri’s attention, not when the man would take it as a personal failing and force himself all the harder.

Although perhaps he simply didn’t notice anymore what with...but that was no one’s business. Especially not hers. (Now if only Eloise would stop talking about it. The older woman down the hall had always said she was available for babysitting duty...)

Which, of course, meant that there had to be an incident at the school.

Vivian wasn’t even entirely sure what she was guilty of outside of it involving another woman’s husband drifting towards her elbow while talking and then his wife’s hand across her face. And, of course, by the turn out she was the one on the receiving end of a lecture on proper conduct by the principal, like some naughty child.

So when her shift rang out for the night, she was into her usual clothes as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more then collect her daughter and dash back to the relative safety of home. Which meant that when a hand curled around her arm sane thought wasn’t really an option.

“No, do I look like I’m on...” Her mouth slammed shut when she took in the person she had whirled around on, wondering if it was still at least somewhat possible to disappear into the floor somehow. “I mean...” She dragged a hand over her face, uncaring of makeup for once. “Can I help you?”