8.40 AM, SO RANDOM SET.

- - - - -

"You want your revenge, don't you?"

Sonny scuffed her feet upon the sound stage uncomfortably. "I never said anything about revenge," she mumbled.

"Sonny Munroe," Tawni snorted with a flip of her perfectly coifed blonde hair. "You've got revenge written all over you – even your dirty little fingernails are saying it."

Sonny folded her fingers, drawing the tips near her eyes as she examined the now chipped polish carefully. "They're not dirty," she argued. "Just a little worn down."

"A hobo has nicer nails."

"Thanks," Sonny grunted sarcastically as she cradled her shoulders with her arms, inhaling the sweet scent of freshly laid duct tape and the lingering puff of the fog machine.

"As someone who has to be seen with you I just feel it's my duty to let you know."

"I'm so sorry you have to be seen with me," the raven haired starlet said as she rolled her pupils directly, scowling at the actress beside her. Tawni reached a hand towards her, patting the top of her head sympathetically – yet almost how one would acknowledge a dog.

"Me too, Sonny. Me too," she warbled as if to commiserate, unaware that her companion's remarks had been in jest.

"I guess it is just dinner," Sonny surmised carefully, though she couldn't get the thumping of those footsteps she had heard crashing desperately throughout the apartment out of her brain. Whoever those feet had belonged to – they weren't just running, they were practically galloping with distress.

"Exactly. And if you happen to catch Chad Dylan Cooper sucking his thumb, putting curlers in his hair or even worse – in clogs," she whispered with a wince as though the idea of any human being wearing such shoes was worse than death itself. Quickly though her lips turned into a radiating grin. "Well then that's just a bonus."

"You're right," Sonny declared.

Tawni shot her a blank stare. "I know," she said witheringly. "I'm Tawni Hart. I'm always right."