Kendal Hathaway (wontgoquietly) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-01-24 00:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-30, bianca, kendal |
i'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints
Who: Bianca & Kendal
Where: Hathaway mansion
When: Afternoon
Right, so. What was that again? Oh, one Bianca coming up. All on her own. Didn’t even need a cab called or anything. Awh, Kendal was almost proud. Girl was graduating to drinking in the kingdom of the Hathaways, if not drinking Hathaway-style. They would just have to see about the latter. Not that it would make any difference whatsoever because god knew Kendal had no intention of being able to remember anything past that text conversation – probably even lose a few hours before that – but if Bianca managed to get her own vehicle home she would be greatly disappointed. Greatly. As previously mentioned, though, she really wasn’t going to remember. And where was Aldie when you wanted a proper—Christ, mother-figure, stare as much as you will, I’m not turning to stone any time soon. Flashing a brighter-than-everything-ever smile at Medusa, Kendal went back to pondering where her cocktail waiter of a little brother was while tugging one of the stools from the breakfast bar along behind her. In stilettos. Not that her footwear was creating any issues with her ability to relocate the stool in question; she had had enough practice doing the absurd in heels higher than those she had picked out. Actually, it was her skirt that caused the issues. It somehow managed to ride just because she was carrying the stool – which she couldn’t carry while fixing said skirt all at the same time without the end result being ridiculous and undignified. Was anyone watching? Because she was willing to humiliate herself to a minor degree to get under the impenetrable hides of Mr. and Mrs. Aldwin Hathaway.
Somewhere in the darkest reaches of, like, Africa, some tribe most likely used the skins of people like her parents to ward off evil.
Arranging the stool on the sidewalk, right near the edge so, seriously, she could not be missed by anyone who knew who she was, Kendal pulled a face at how uneven the ground felt as she seated herself and waited a moment to see if anyone was sent to drag her back in. Oh, there it was. A maid. Mommy Dearest didn’t like her youngest daughter making a show of herself when it was too minor to just brush under the carpet with a wad of cash. Wonder if they’d pay off the neighbours… “Oh, hey! So can you get me a margarita? I’m a little thirsty.” Another dazzling – and pre-emptively grateful – smile, and the maid wandered off in a sort of daze. Was she new? Kendal didn’t think she’d seen her before. It was really mean sending the new girl out after her when she was apparently doing something bizarre, even when she was actually just making sure Bianca didn’t drive past. She’d been screwing people around for a lot longer. Not that she could remember the last time either of her parents had simply asked her what the hell she was doing. She most definitely couldn’t remember the last time she had given them an honest answer to that question. With her margarita finally in hand, she sat there quite happily, watching the cars go past and swinging her legs. This was weird, but it was almost fun. Sat on my own on the sidewalk. Oh god, that’s tragic. Back. She took it all back.
“B, get your ass here now-ish. I’m turning into Melody.” But actually, adopting her sister’s behaviour for maybe a month just to fuck with everyone wasn’t such a bad idea.