with: @this-is--me-trying where: rainforest café when: march
Ivy preferred to eat her lunch alone — the Doll House was a beautiful venue and she hadn't been given reason to scorn the performers that lived and breathe burlesque, but she would rather sit at a table by herself than look like the only person in the break room without any friends. Pink, permed curls bounced against her shoulders when she pulled out a seat that squeaked across the linoleum and squealed, plopping herself down in it and bringing the straw to the mango smoothie to her lips, her eyes darting up when a shadow crossed over her and the view of the animatronic leopard above her head. ( Her brother would puke standing under any of these robots. ) "If this was your table, you can just go get another," she pointed out dryly, arching an eyebrow with silent challenge, as she sank further into the seat as if to prove a point. People in Vegas felt almost as entitled as the loud-mouthed New Yorkers that she had fit right in with, but that didn't make her like any of them any more than she hated herself vehemently. "And if you're not asking me to get my ass out of this chair, what the hell do you want?"