Who: Olivia and Mack When: Tuesday evening Where: Olivia's place Rating: PG Warnings: none
Mack was late. Her excuse? She’d been three hours wrapped up in My Strange Addiction. Clearly there was nothing more enticing than nail polish eating, pony playing, skin bleaching individuals, and that had to be true if it was the only inhibition between Mack and food. She tended to do this a lot—punctuality wasn’t her strongest suit, and it had to do more with her poor attention span than anything else. Eventually, though, she realized that at some point she had to get off her couch and hoisted upwards, exaggerated groan following. Mack didn’t bother to bring any cooking essentials since she assumed Olivia was stocked up enough, so her little brown satchel and a toothbrush just in case she was too lazy to drive home was all that was brought… oh, oops, and her keys. She better not forget that.
She didn’t remember what they were supposed to bake, only that it sounded delicious. Mack, herself, was a good cook, but she looked at cooking with a more mathematical perspective than an artistic one. When she pulled into the driveway, Mack messed around with her hair and tugged on her loose white t-shirt that slanted in a way that bore her black lacey bra. Sluggish was definitely a common way to describe Mack. The moment she was let in, she huffed. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, Italian accent still mildly thick despite six years of being in the states. “I had very, very important things to do.”