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Mary knows what she likes because she's told every day. She doesn't mind so much as she finds it a little patronizing--As if she could forget things so integral to her existence! Her preferences aren't as meaningful to her as they are to her creator, but that's all the more reason for her to...

The shouting and struggle set Mary's teeth on edge. Both her hands wrap around her glass anxiously, pupils adjusting once again to the dark of the streets--She can see a fist nearly meet a jaw before things settle again. The voices ring in her ears clearly even beneath the din of the rain...

Mary's lips form a visible letter "o" as Bartender speaks, and she nods in response -- It feels quite obvious now that she's said it. How many stupid movies has she been made to watch where it all plays out just like Bartender's said? Maybe she's letting the air get to her more than she meant...

Mary's head tilts thoughtfully, her pupils widening and narrowing for several seconds before settling on a middling setting as she admires Bartender's expression. A few of her fingers tap on the drink's rim. Is it strange? "Oh," is what she says. She lowers her gaze to the neon flashing against...

Rather than responding properly, Mary props the sheet to stand on the counter and ducks behind it. Now only the string of engineered pearls circling her forehead and the curls poking over it show from the very top. She never considered before how strange it might be to try to read under anything...

Mary has decided she hates the rain. Before today, it slid down windows like gravity itself and delayed her daily check-ups just long enough for her to read a chapter of a book. Before today, before today. Now, its waterlogging her flimsy shoes. It's bad enough to make her plastic raincoat stick...

hiiii! been rping for 10+ years and got recommended this site!