06-12-2018, 02:18 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt;"][color=black]// no worries 
It is not the sound of footsteps or even the sound of a cold voice that garners the attention of the young girl. As much as Amren's tone caused the teen to bristle, she is accustomed to ignoring adults who have nothing beneficial to say. No, it is the sound of a puppy that causes the girl to drag her attention away from her outdated magazines and towards the newcomer. "Aw, puppy!" she cooes, pointedly taking her time in responding to Amren purely out of spite. Life is too boring to not be difficult. "May I pet your dog?" It's a genuine query. She loves animals--if she had the means to adopt one, she would, but given that she's a broke ass teenager living on her own with no real job, animal adoption is kind of out of the question. When she decides that enough seconds have passed, the girl finally looks Amren directly in the eye and immediately feels a surge of emotions. Fear is the strongest, because this person is both absurdly beautiful and oddly terrifying despite her height. Curiosity is another. She manages to keep it together, however, and instead summons a sort of half-smile, half-smirk. "I am Connie, woman," responds the teen rather testily, mimicking Amren's original words directed towards herself. Perhaps it's a bad idea to test Amren's patience, but, at this point, Connie doesn't really care. At best, the other finds it funny. At worst, Amren dislikes her.
Jean jacket-clad shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal shrug. "That's probably because I'm new in town--" Connie turns back around momentarily to shove her magazines in the black Jansport backpack which contains most of her personal belongings. The vape is tucked into one of her many pockets. In one, swift movement the girl retrieves her legs from over the ledge and tucks them beneath her as she rises to her full height. A playful gust of wind tugs at her honey brown hair. "So, what's your name?" Connie is already more amiable than before, presumably having decided that she did enough teasing already. Oh, how whims change like the breeze.
It is not the sound of footsteps or even the sound of a cold voice that garners the attention of the young girl. As much as Amren's tone caused the teen to bristle, she is accustomed to ignoring adults who have nothing beneficial to say. No, it is the sound of a puppy that causes the girl to drag her attention away from her outdated magazines and towards the newcomer. "Aw, puppy!" she cooes, pointedly taking her time in responding to Amren purely out of spite. Life is too boring to not be difficult. "May I pet your dog?" It's a genuine query. She loves animals--if she had the means to adopt one, she would, but given that she's a broke ass teenager living on her own with no real job, animal adoption is kind of out of the question. When she decides that enough seconds have passed, the girl finally looks Amren directly in the eye and immediately feels a surge of emotions. Fear is the strongest, because this person is both absurdly beautiful and oddly terrifying despite her height. Curiosity is another. She manages to keep it together, however, and instead summons a sort of half-smile, half-smirk. "I am Connie, woman," responds the teen rather testily, mimicking Amren's original words directed towards herself. Perhaps it's a bad idea to test Amren's patience, but, at this point, Connie doesn't really care. At best, the other finds it funny. At worst, Amren dislikes her.
Jean jacket-clad shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal shrug. "That's probably because I'm new in town--" Connie turns back around momentarily to shove her magazines in the black Jansport backpack which contains most of her personal belongings. The vape is tucked into one of her many pockets. In one, swift movement the girl retrieves her legs from over the ledge and tucks them beneath her as she rises to her full height. A playful gust of wind tugs at her honey brown hair. "So, what's your name?" Connie is already more amiable than before, presumably having decided that she did enough teasing already. Oh, how whims change like the breeze.
JOLENE, I'M BEGGIN' OF YOU
"please don't take my man" — crow — she/her — characters