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Date Posted: 07:31:25 12/20/01 Thu
Author: Nia
Subject: Her jaw drops, more in embarrasment versus shock. "What are you weaing?? No," she adds, puncuating her rephrasal with an arrogant flick of her blonde ringlets, "the question should be: what aren't you wearing." She wrinkles her nose and eyes Cirrus's skimpy presentation.
In reply to: Cirrus 's message, "She picks herself up abruptly and walks steadily across the dance floor, rather enjoying the dutiful clink the heels of her shoes make upon the reflective flooring." on 07:27:29 12/20/01 Thu

>"This is boring. It's time to do something that
>will...spice things up a little bit."
>She goes so far as to walk out through the revolving
>doors and disappears into the folds of night.
>
>However, she does return, but looking concievebly
>different.
>She is clothed in a rather inadequate flame-print
>bikini top and a faux vintage jean skirt. Her slender
>legs have been reluctantly smothered in fishnet which
>awkwardly protrudes from the open-toes in her stiletto
>sandals. The belly-button ring she has had ever since
>she was turned human six months ago has been replaced
>with a hanging diamond that dangles precariously above
>her wide-studded belt.
>Her hair has now gained lurid dayglo streaks and has
>been angled and textured. Surprising, considering that
>she had been gone a mere seventeen minutes.
>"I feel like...Gwen Stefani." Fixing her rouge lips in
>something like a bemused grin, she makes her way back
>to the bar.

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