"So why did we go shopping again?"
"I forgot."
"Well, whatever. Let's go home."
Becky Blackbell and Anya Forger snored with abandon in the back of the Limo; a rivulet of drool hung from the latter's mouth and a pronounced snot bubble ebbed from her nostril. Their day had been long and eventful as evidenced by not only how quickly the two of them passed out but also by virtue of the array of bags and boxes haloing their slumbering frames, all of which contained Becky's purchases. By contrast, her friend clutched a small bag with a pricy but comparatively humble sheep keychain figure.
Taking advantage of the lull in traffic, Martha Marriott adjusted the rearview mirror to peripherally bask on the two of them in their slumbering state. Though a spectator to the day, her experience was nonetheless eventful; she shot Becky multiple indirect glances in some attempt at curtailing her far from subtle attempts at playing Fille Fatale, followed by a strong moment of initially misjudging the seemingly frugal Forger girl as she nonchalantly yanked a stack of cash. From there she relied on years of military training to haul around half the shopping center, and then reminded young Becky of her social graces when it came time to accept her own little sheep keychain from Anya.
Even still, the current state of the two girls would have been described by old friend of hers as 'inelegant.' Nonetheless, Becky's normally reserved caretaker couldn't help but permit a small smile to grace her face as memories of her time in the employ of Edward and Patrice as the nanny of their daughter begin to overtake her faculties.