Creepy-crawlies? Slither? Dolores looked curiously over her shoulder, eyes following the strange lady, to see where exactly this exhibit was located while walking towards the people pointed to her. Maybe Dolores would get to see it later, and in any case, it was good to know where her coat was headed. Annette still had hers on, although she had unbuttoned it so her satin dress showed from the front. It was similar to Dolores’, but red, and of course much more slender to suit her form.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: #ff8000">Ladies! To what do we owe the pleasure?!</span>”<br/><br/>“<span style="color: #00b359">We came with Mr Green,</span>” Dolores replied, “<span style="color: #00b359">Maybe there’s something for us to do before the show?</span>”<br/><br/>With head tilted to one side, Annette stared at the peculiar looking man with an evaluating look on her face, and then just went ahead and asked, “Are you a normal person or some kind of a freak like that lady we just met?”<br/><br/>“<span style="color: #00b359">Ann!</span>” Dolores gasped. This place started to show qualities of the girl that Dolores hadn’t even been aware of.<br/><br/>“Well excuse me,” Annette sighed at Dolores, “I don’t see much to do around this dump and I think I have the right to know about a person before I decide to have sex with them,” then the French girl turned back at the black-haired fellow, tilted her head on the other side, and continued to speak as if Dolores, or anyone else for that matter, wasn’t even there anymore, “You do want to fuck, don’t you?”<br/><br/>“<span style="color: #00b359">She’s… French,</span>” Dolores said but her voice was a bit weaker than before, not quite satisfied the explanation she’d come up with. Gathering herself, she looked at everyone who was around—the charming Italian harassed by Annette, and then the two others who spoke in a strong Russian accent—and proceeded to introduce herself, “<span style="color: #00b359">My name is Dolores… and I don’t know who <i>that</i> is,</span>” looking at Annette, she couldn’t help herself, even though she’d just called the girl by her name.<br/><br/>“<i>I</i>am Annette,” the girl said rather proudly, “My friend sometimes forgets things. Isn’t that right,<i>Dollie</i>?” The last part she pronounced with a strong intonation as a revenge for the larger girl calling out her nickname, and finally, to make things even, she thought to add one more thing, “She’s from England… so, there’s that.”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>