ᴄᴀʀʟʏ ᴄᴀssɪᴅʏ (caterwauling) wrote in commandhq, @ 2018-02-11 18:51:00 |
|
|||
She was twenty-six. Twenty-six! It was official; things were going downhill. Carly had been picked up by Regiment at eighteen, and now she was nearing on a decade trapped in one of their stupid facilities, still watching people living fake lives on screens and wishing desperately she could be one of them. Getting out to run missions for these jerks didn’t make up for the fact that she was wasting her youth trapped behind a fortress; in a few years, she could kiss any hope at getting her foot in anywhere in Hollywood goodbye. An unknown actress over thirty? Un-freaking-likely.
Carly felt miserable, so she was acting miserable, sprawled out across a sofa so that nobody could join her as she watched a movie alone.
Pretty in Pink felt somewhat appropriate, even if the 1980s fashion filling up the screen was almost always an eye-sore. Why had they insisted on dressing Molly Ringwald in that prom dress? Ridiculous.
To make matters worse, all she wanted to do was mutter and cuss and chew out the film as the events continued to unfold, but as per Limbo’s rules and regulations, Carly was muzzled, and all she could do was huff, scoff, and give some well-executed weapons-grade-eye rolls. At least there was still some of that cheesecake (apparently made especially for her birthday, which was nice, she guessed) waiting on the table beside the sofa. A very, very finite silver lining.
You said you couldn't be with someone who didn't believe in you. I believed in you, I always believed in you. I just didn't believe in me.
Now there was less eye-rolling. Carly sat up on the sofa, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, waiting expectantly.
I love you... always.
She sighed, picked up the cheesecake, and took a bite.
Awful fashion aside, this one always got her. Shitty prison birthday—be damned. Ringwald and cheesecake were here to save the day.