[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 500px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; line-height: 14px; font-size: 9.5pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]Angel is a misandrist, plain and simple. her distrust and overall distaste towards men was deep-rooted in her daddy issues, being raised solely around women. the men she was around were criminals, creeps, made no effort to protect anyone other than themselves. The women in their life? They were bitches, property. She'd even been less than fortunate to stumble across those who sold off women from sex and abuse. Now, maybe it was a bit close-minded, but she didn't mind staying in a bubble in which she was familiar with. She'd done pretty good at avoiding them, having minimal conversations. Peers, bastards she worked with, but definitely not friends. That is until Michael makes his grand appearance. She thinks she saw him around, though she doesn't remember, doesn't care.
"Was vandalism," She corrects, rolling her eyes. "What's it to you anyway, short stop?" She obviously didn't know what the 'insult' meant, was too distracted to care. Since Michael was the only one here, at least at that moment, she needed input. She holds up the hoodie that sports the city name in bold letters. It wasn't the Badlands, that was for sure. Exposed. "What do you think? Too much?" She sighs, placing the hoodie back on the rack, but to face her just in case. "Everything's the same around here. Where's the Hollisters? The Forever21s?" She'd assume he'd be old enough to know what that is, right? Her generation didn't care too much about upholding their appearance, only rotating their outfits once a year. People around Michael's age, though, they'd get it, right? Except for him. He seemed a little more than rough around the edges. She could tell he's seen some things, hopefully the nearest mall if that were possible.
Cat. It seems as anywhere she is, they seem to turn up. She doubts it's by accident, that even though they try to keep their expression indifferent they are drawn towards her presence. If they realize it now, they would soon enough. "You could call it that," her lips pull upwards in a wry smile, the mood killed by their demands. "Get one of your creepy men to do it. I have things to do" What those things were would be open to interpretation. She'd hope whatever she'd have to do would include Cat. Maybe they could board up the window together, and she could find out a way to dismantle their relationship with Gav. It'll take some work, but she's patient.
Gabe shows up. Again, she thinks she's seen him around. She's a little softer on the boys of her generation and Gabe is doe eyed and enthralled in the world around him. "You should keep it," she suggests as finally, she decides on the hoodie she was first looking at. It's better than what she sports now. With no forethought of the crowd before her, she lifts the hoodie she wears now over her head throwing it aside. It at least makes revelation to a tattered cami top rather than a bra, and she's quick to throw her new attire over her head It's still loose; but not as loose as the one she wore earlier. "How's it look?" She asks the other three, though her hope in approval lies with Cat.
"Was vandalism," She corrects, rolling her eyes. "What's it to you anyway, short stop?" She obviously didn't know what the 'insult' meant, was too distracted to care. Since Michael was the only one here, at least at that moment, she needed input. She holds up the hoodie that sports the city name in bold letters. It wasn't the Badlands, that was for sure. Exposed. "What do you think? Too much?" She sighs, placing the hoodie back on the rack, but to face her just in case. "Everything's the same around here. Where's the Hollisters? The Forever21s?" She'd assume he'd be old enough to know what that is, right? Her generation didn't care too much about upholding their appearance, only rotating their outfits once a year. People around Michael's age, though, they'd get it, right? Except for him. He seemed a little more than rough around the edges. She could tell he's seen some things, hopefully the nearest mall if that were possible.
Cat. It seems as anywhere she is, they seem to turn up. She doubts it's by accident, that even though they try to keep their expression indifferent they are drawn towards her presence. If they realize it now, they would soon enough. "You could call it that," her lips pull upwards in a wry smile, the mood killed by their demands. "Get one of your creepy men to do it. I have things to do" What those things were would be open to interpretation. She'd hope whatever she'd have to do would include Cat. Maybe they could board up the window together, and she could find out a way to dismantle their relationship with Gav. It'll take some work, but she's patient.
Gabe shows up. Again, she thinks she's seen him around. She's a little softer on the boys of her generation and Gabe is doe eyed and enthralled in the world around him. "You should keep it," she suggests as finally, she decides on the hoodie she was first looking at. It's better than what she sports now. With no forethought of the crowd before her, she lifts the hoodie she wears now over her head throwing it aside. It at least makes revelation to a tattered cami top rather than a bra, and she's quick to throw her new attire over her head It's still loose; but not as loose as the one she wore earlier. "How's it look?" She asks the other three, though her hope in approval lies with Cat.
[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€