Who did Soviet Barbie think she was, Queen of the Female Dormitories? Beatrice was sure she wasn't the only person who had been disturbed by her pitiful excuse for music and she was also quite sure that – multiple housing complexes being what they were – it wouldn't be long before she was complained about at the complex and forced to knock it off. She privately resolved to be the one to do it if she ever heard that trash vibrating through her walls again, but she decided against warning the girl of her intentions. Why should she be nice when her neighbour didn't seem to understand something as simple as common politeness?
"Oh ho, aren't we so funny?" she responded, her eyes narrowed. "Just so you know, dearie, your so-called 'music' is just about as tasteless as that lovely little outfit you're wearing."
It wasn't like Beatrice to say something legitimately nasty, but the blonde had pushed her to it. She may have been wearing a leotard and leggings, but at least she had yoga as an excuse for her minimal clothing. Goodness only knew what Barbie had been up to in there.