B. Davis

There was a definite upside to having a room to herself, which was that when... issues arose, it was easier to take care of it without worrying about getting walked in on. Unless you opened the door she never locked.

It was best, however, not to ask her how she ended up ramming her head into the wall, because she wasn't going to give you a straight answer. Probably. Unless you were hot.

Having now managed to kill the mood by herself (how did that even happen?), after a moment Brooke began to worry whether she'd actually hit her head hard enough to worry about it. Probably not, but maybe there'd be painkillers involved, so that would be about the time she got up and made sure she looked suitable enough to actually leave.

It meant a change into something more cleavage-baring.


[I HAD TO. IT'S HER USERNAME. Establishy, unless you manage to catch her before leaving.]

The school moving was weird. Like, really weird. Brooke didn't get it, and she didn't want to, and she was trying not to think too hard about it.

Except for when she thought that it would be a crime not to take advantage of this. Which was why she spent some time dolling herself up in order to make herself presentable and hit up the Greek nightlife. Maybe *cough* introduce herself to the locals and all.

See, the whole island-moving thing had its perks, beyond the usual jokes.


[Establishy! Yeah, I had to.]

Brooke was not very good in a crisis. Radio might have made that evident. After French class she headed straight back to her room, trying to distract herself over a sewing machine to put together a few of her designs. This actually did work, at least until she heard a noise and about jumped out of her skin. And there was a lot of frustrated mess-ups and muttered curses that followed, so all in all Brooke was having a fun time.

And not going outside for any town meetings. If there was a marning to be careful in going into town, she wasn't going into town.

[Door's closed, post is open.]