Tabitha was used to the knock down, dance till you collapse parties where youth leapt off tables and the punch was spiked. This was the most fancy shindig she had ever been to in her life. Sporting a orange dress and flashing heels, the prankster stifled a yawn behind a tangerine nailed hand. Part of her was half tempted to toss a tiny bomb into one of those fat cat's drinks, but she restrained herself and instead managed to offer a wane smile when approached.
It was sickening the way these old geezers were checking her out, like she was some new line of car that they just had to run their pudgy fingers over. Honestly, it was disgusting and Boom Boom threw up alittle in her mouth as one brushed her arm. How she managed to keep that smile up, she would never know, but in the meantime she swallowed a large gulp of coke to keep the bile from ending up all over someone's Jimmy Choos.
The blonde was strictly here on business, gathering intel and the like for her boss. She had pleaded, with puppy eyes, for a chance to cause some havoc with a few little explosives here and there, but he wasnt all to keen on her making a scene. The Brotherhood had been out of it too long; she was looking forward to pushing the envelope more. Her blue eyes glanced up, falling on the empty tables. Where was the table dancing? She was in for a long night.