Disclaimer: Do I have to put this on? RENT is not mine. There. I said it. Don't make me admit it again.
She had never broken into a building before.
Okay, so that was not entirely true; there had been that one time in high school...but that was another story and did not count. Not really.
Anyway, she had never really broken into a building before. What exactly was the proper procedure? Not that she had ever been proper before either, but there was always a time to start. No, there was never a time to start being proper. In theory there was one, she supposed, but there was no time to be proper.
The time when planning to break into a building was definitely not the time to be proper, in any case. Which brought her back to her original point. What did you, well, do? She had a feeling that Miss Manners had no advice for the particular situation. What advice would Miss Manners have, anyway, if she had some? Leave an IOU for the broken lock? Tidy up the broken splinters of the door? Turn said splinters into an attractive sculpture?
Shit, she was getting off topic again. Whatever. She was just fabulously creative that way. And talented. And breathtaking. And a genius. And sexy. Almost as sexy as the door-splinter sculptures.
Right! Topic! Breaking into buildings! Specifically, apartment buildings. Did that make any difference? Ah! Point!
Burglar movies! She knew she had watched some! What did they wear? Wait, she knew. They wore little eye masks, and black, and hats. Hats were just not her thing. Her hair did not like being contained. Little things were okay; hats were not. The mask thingies...they did horrors to her eyes, which were pretty gorgeous under regular circumstances. Black was her color, though. Black suited her.
And she had to look fabulous. Joanne was probably a wreck by then. A whole week without her? Could anyone go that long? Maybe she should be dressing down, making it easier for her ex-lover...no. Joanne was already probably jealous. What would hurt making her more so?
She groaned, dropping into a chair. Well, she could have sworn there was a chair. Maybe she did not drop into a chair. Maybe she dropped onto the floor. What point are you trying to make? Anyway, she groaned and dropped. Ooh, that sounded dirty. Anyway, she groaned and dropped, in an entirely nonsexual way. Well, she was pretty sexual all the time. No! Bad distractions! Bad gir-and back to the dirtysoundingness. That is not a word. Whatever. Wait! Back to the point!
No wonder Joanne had left. Ha! Jealous! Yeah, right! Joanne was perfectly fine without her, but she...she needed closure. She needed peace. She needed satisfaction. She needed to feel better off without that obsessive compulsive control freak. She needed...she needed chips.
She sighed happily. What more do you need in life but chips? Not much. Not much at all. What did she care what she wore to the breaking back in the building party, as long as she had chips. She would bring the bag. She would definitely bring the bag.
But...what would the boys say? She could just hear Collins now: "Shit, girl, more chips?" Okay, he would not say that. Whatever. Or Roger, oh Roger. Roger would never let her live her indulgence down! He would so call her fat. Stupidly skinny junkie boy. She would have to show off her, completely not fat, body. Okay, clothing was important again. What to wear, what to wear...
Yes! She had it! Black, sleek, skintight...everyone had heard of cat burglars, right?
A/N: I know it was short, but how much more rambling about a cat suit can you do? I might put up another chapter, about Angel and Collins deciding to be James Bond and Pussy Galore, but I don't know. Please review!
A/N 2: This fic was written in honor of the impending death of my first fic, Nail Polish. By tomorrow, the document will no longer be saved on my account.
