"Ahem, it wasn't a "dumb prank," it was merely a work in progress," She sniffed, clearly offended. "You must admit, I make a damn fine-looking ghost if I do say so myself." Poppy nudged the sheet with the toe of her boot, grinning. Or at least, she was, until she suddenly felt overwhelmed by an odd, tingly sensation that disappeared as quickly as it came. Woah, okay, trippy! Maybe she oughta lay off the alcohol a tad bit. "W-What the hell was that?" She murmured softly, unaware that she was speaking aloud.
Facing Maya, she continued to wiggle her hand in mock amusement. "Oooh, watch out! You might catch AIDs! I'm contagious." She giggled and wiped her palm on the formally unblemished sheet which now resembed a five-year-old's fingerpainting canvas. Germs, shmerms.
"I'm here, oh darling sister-dear, because mom and dad confined me to my room and I was going stir-crazy all by myself," Poppy yawned, and thrust herself out on the lush lawn, sprawled in a an awkward position that had her skirt hiking dangerously high. Wouldn't that be a nice sight for the impressionable young children in the park?