[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 500px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; line-height: 14px; font-size: 9.5pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]Angel's old habits associated her with the wrong people, nearly got her killed, and yet, the first chance she gets to snoop around the old souveiner shops she takes it.
It's not as if she's without protection. Once Cat is positive that she could handle her own, they allow her the opportunity she wield her weapons of choice, her favorite being the pistol that was once her mother's, the mace secretly secured in her boot if bullets were to run short or someone managed to take away her first option during a scuffle. She'd also had a taser, a pretty and pink accommodation and last alternative say if the mace hadn't effect, but someone Kimberly Bennett, was the someone she assumed took it from her.
She needed a new taser, if plausible, and some clothes anything to get her out of these sweatpants two sizes big for her and this hoodie that smells as if it came from the deepest depths of an old thrift shop, and the most disappointing part of all is that it wasn't Cat's because instead, they allowed their sus soldiers whose eyes were on her chest more than her eyes to offer her clothes that she didn't care because well— it didn't smell like them. If it wasn't obvious, she was enthralled in Cat's beauty because who wouldn't be? She wasn't stupid, they obviously didn’t pay her any more mind than they did any newcomer however she was determined to revise that. Angelica was a self-insert when she wanted to be, burrowing herself in the lives of others like some disastrous flu. Already she was beginning to befriend Molly, that was a start; and if they had a boyfriend, so what? Angel was more drawn towards a challenge, driven towards Cat's prestige and she had the patience where it was needed.
Souvenir shops lined the boardwalk, some far more polished than others. For Kimberly and some of the other girls, that would have been a turn off, but for her? You could never be too sure. She sifts from souvenir shop to souvenir shop mostly stumbling upon the same things— gum? yes. a lighter? that might come handy in the future. key chains with her name, cool but no. a broken watch with the ocean behind its glass frame? maybe— the things that she thinks she might want, she stuffs in her book bag as she walks upon the next one much more polished than the first four she'd entered and it makes sense as to why. She approaches the door and yanks at it to no avail, the lock resisting its force.
"Figures." Stifling a sigh, her eyes sift towards the ground, scanning the pebbles that litter the ground until it lands on a misshaped yet sturdy rock. She plucks it off the ground, placing distance between herself and the shop as she rolls the rock between her hands and once there is distance, she chucks it, the shattering over glass rippling through the air. She's not concerned, though; just another trouble in paradise, right? No one would be concerned. She reaches her hand in to unlock the door, strolling right into her newfound treasures unaware that someone else was disturbed by the noise; instead her eyes are focused on the hoodie on the rack.
It's not as if she's without protection. Once Cat is positive that she could handle her own, they allow her the opportunity she wield her weapons of choice, her favorite being the pistol that was once her mother's, the mace secretly secured in her boot if bullets were to run short or someone managed to take away her first option during a scuffle. She'd also had a taser, a pretty and pink accommodation and last alternative say if the mace hadn't effect, but someone Kimberly Bennett, was the someone she assumed took it from her.
She needed a new taser, if plausible, and some clothes anything to get her out of these sweatpants two sizes big for her and this hoodie that smells as if it came from the deepest depths of an old thrift shop, and the most disappointing part of all is that it wasn't Cat's because instead, they allowed their sus soldiers whose eyes were on her chest more than her eyes to offer her clothes that she didn't care because well— it didn't smell like them. If it wasn't obvious, she was enthralled in Cat's beauty because who wouldn't be? She wasn't stupid, they obviously didn’t pay her any more mind than they did any newcomer however she was determined to revise that. Angelica was a self-insert when she wanted to be, burrowing herself in the lives of others like some disastrous flu. Already she was beginning to befriend Molly, that was a start; and if they had a boyfriend, so what? Angel was more drawn towards a challenge, driven towards Cat's prestige and she had the patience where it was needed.
Souvenir shops lined the boardwalk, some far more polished than others. For Kimberly and some of the other girls, that would have been a turn off, but for her? You could never be too sure. She sifts from souvenir shop to souvenir shop mostly stumbling upon the same things— gum? yes. a lighter? that might come handy in the future. key chains with her name, cool but no. a broken watch with the ocean behind its glass frame? maybe— the things that she thinks she might want, she stuffs in her book bag as she walks upon the next one much more polished than the first four she'd entered and it makes sense as to why. She approaches the door and yanks at it to no avail, the lock resisting its force.
"Figures." Stifling a sigh, her eyes sift towards the ground, scanning the pebbles that litter the ground until it lands on a misshaped yet sturdy rock. She plucks it off the ground, placing distance between herself and the shop as she rolls the rock between her hands and once there is distance, she chucks it, the shattering over glass rippling through the air. She's not concerned, though; just another trouble in paradise, right? No one would be concerned. She reaches her hand in to unlock the door, strolling right into her newfound treasures unaware that someone else was disturbed by the noise; instead her eyes are focused on the hoodie on the rack.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: center; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.4;"]I'M [I]HIGH AS A PRIVATE JET. â€â€