Sasha prefers to open (carry) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-26 01:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, alyssa vaughn, sasha james |
Carnival: Sasha & Alyssa
Who: Sasha and Alyssa
What: Let's. Get. Weird.
Where: The Carnival
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Who knows. Will update.
Sasha was still riding high on agreeing to stay with Abe. Surely there was stuff for her to do in the Capital that involved ripping someone off, but she found she didn't like to roam too far while Abe was performing. Hence why she'd been haunting the carnival every single day, so she could be home when he got done. It was all very Donna Reed. There were a few things that needed to get settled before the two of them went to New Orleans, and if Sasha had to talk to one more airline representative that told her there were no two person fancy pants private cabin class seats she was going to scream. It was a really good idea, and now she had it in her head that it simply had to exist somewhere. After calling every airline that flew out of the nearby airport, she was wrong. America was too far behind in their technology. If they decided to go to Asia, she'd be in business.
If she was upset about that particular rabbit hole she'd fallen into, it didn't show behind that beaming killer smile that was plastered on her face. In her crimson and cobalt shorts, she skipped along down the midway visiting all the games like a butterfly in a field of wildflowers. Sasha loved the summer and was basking in the sunshine between playing, enjoying the warmth as it bled through her white tank top with the giant 'R' emblazoned in red across the front. Team Rocket was being represented today, and a few of her former employees didn't fail to point it out to her when they ran into each other at the lemonade stand.
Currently, she was at the rope ladder climb, arguing with the gentleman booth owner. You see, it started with a rather obnoxious conversation that consisted of nothing but song lyrics from various Disney sing-a-longs. It devolved into a rather bawdy debate of what could possibly be as thick as Gaston, who's as quick as Gaston, which prince had a gargantuan- Well, you get the idea. Now it had boiled down into a childish bet over which one of them was a candlestick, "If I ring that bell, you're using a French accent the rest of the day," Sasha pointed at the guy running the game, with his beard that put those ZZ Top guys to shame.
"If you lose?" The older man leaned on the hanger hook he used to get the stuffed animals down with, seemingly unconcerned with Sasha's threats. The rope ladder was a game of skill, and there were talented few that knew how to throw their weight correctly so it didn't flip them upside down. He did not believe the short little firecracker was one of the lucky few.
She believed she was. Sasha's hands flew to her hips, and she huffed incredulously, "Oh for- I'll use a French accent for the rest of the day! But I'm not gonna lose." Sasha turned to the person next to her, oblivious to how long they may have been standing there and implored, "You don't think I'm gonna lose, do you?"