Maddy and Open
Never one to waste a good opportunity for showmanship, Maddy arrived at the Bellagio in a skin-tight, lace mini-dress that was either sheer or had a nude layer of fabric underneath, but only a discerning stare would reveal the situation. In this way, she could attract attention while reserving the right to yell, “Are you staring at my nipples?!” to anyone who gave her the creeps. She stepped out of an Uber in a pair of ankle boots that looked killer but were actually destroying her will to live and clutched her bejeweled cell phone case. With a fluff of her blonde hair, she sashayed into the resort looking for trouble or a good laugh, whichever opportunity presented itself first.
At the door of the big event, she scanned the crowd of familiar faces and saw two right offhand, which she had affectionately dubbed the Ice Cream Man and Hulk Smash, then a redhead she thought she had seen before talking to a friend of hers. Foregoing those opportunities to find a fresh one, she nonetheless called out, “Brian-fucking-Campo, you owe me twenty bucks!” on her way by, to the chagrin of an older woman in a broach who cared deeply about homelessness as long as it wasn’t making a tent city on her street.