Re: Interior hallway
MK snorted. "Well, models don't eat, so I'd have no idea," she joked, a tongue-and-cheek stab at those stereotypes everyone loved to obsess over and maybe it was just another issue in a binder full that the redhead had. And, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? Only another thing to gossip about, and MK already perpetuated plenty of those already. She took a large gulp of her drink, and let it mix with her buzz of pills in her head that really started to kick in as Sam dragged her towards the living room/dance floor. She squeezed the other girl's fingers with a wicked grin on her face and knew that she could at least trust Sam for a good time.
Taking the second drink, she drowned herself in the first whiskey and nursed the second, fingers gripping the glass hard so it wouldn't knock over in the sea of bodies. The music and shouting was deafening, and MK barely managed to hear Sam's questions. She shook her head violently as she tugged Sam into the middle of all those people. "Nope, no asshole. Pretty sure I'm dead to him at this point," the redhead screamed back with a shrug that didn't look as apathetic as she thought. And, again, she shook her head and shrugged. "AWOL, right now. Probably door stuff. No one tells me shit anymore. Their son isn't home either." The way she downed the rest of her drink, 1,2,3, told her friend that all of it bothered her a lot more than she cared to admit. No fucks given or not. "How's your studio thing going?"