A/N: Originally, I wrote this as a chapter opening for a crossover I was going to do...but the story never quite took off. Still, I can't help but smile every time I read this: It's fun. And short. Enjoy! ~BritLuvr~
Angel blew on her nails, admiring the way the blue turned to green under certain lighting, the overall glossiness of the color, the perfect contrast it had with her rich Latina skin. Blue was such a nice, calming color; the nail polish was almost a metaphor for Angel herself, though she was unaware of it. It was a masculine color, blue being so heavily associated with the boys, but this particular shade was softer and more feminine. Its changing appearance in the light, the transformation it underwent, could be taken for Angel's dual identity: Angel, boy who spent his days drumming on a street corner to earn enough cash for dinner, and Angel, the stunning cross-dresser who spent her nights in the arms of her lover. And, of course, the nail polish was perfectly glossy smooth, just like Angel's careful appearance. By this logic, the color should not have been called "Color-Changing Peacock", but rather "Angel Dumont Schunard".
Not that Angel made the connections. She was just happy that the color looked as thrilling on her nails as it did in the bottle.