(http://i1092.photobucket.com/albums/i408/Aadreal/E%20characters/Morgan.jpg) -Morgan<br/><br/>Morgan was sitting under one of the windows, bare feet peeking out from paint splattered jeans.  Her purple painted toes tapped to an odd rhythm, the soft clicking of her tongue ring tapping against the back of her teeth keeping time.  A smudge of charcoal darkened her nose, she'd been so focused on her piece she didn't realize she'd scratched her nose.  Looking up with a sigh she shook her head, the dyed purple hair brushing against her bare shoulders.  She was wearing just a sports bra, not wanting to get any of her shirts dirty.<br/><br/>“We've been her what...two days and every night it's been a night for a drinky.”  Morgan tried her best to imitate Freya's accent. Their shy little third roommate made the girl smirk.  She was such a trip, so very...repressed.  There really wasn't any other way to put it. The redhead was the kind of person people talked about.  So sweet and quiet, no one expected them to be a serial killer.<br/><br/>“She wasn't talking about soda Mel.”  Frey and Mel.  That's what she called them whether they liked it or not.  One would think sticking three creative types in a room would be a good idea.  Unless they actually knew creative types.  The musician, the writer and the artist.  That there had yet to be blood shed was a small miracle.<br/><br/>Setting the sketchpad aside she looked down at the drawing once more.  It was upside down, she was in the itchy stage of fine tuning, fixing the things that weren't quite right.  One of Frey's guitars was the subject, she'd been bored out of her mind and just needed to draw.  She'd already sketched both of the other women, not that they knew.  Her lips quirked at the thought.  It was a fun little exercise, imagining what was hidden under their clothes.  Despite what most people thought about her she wasn't exactly very experienced.  People just assumed she was.<br/><br/>“I still have a bottle of Jack.”  Standing with a stretch she rose to her toes, lifting her arms overhead to undo the kinks in her curvy figure.  Her jeans rode low on her hips, threatening to fall off at any moment.  Tugging them up absently she pointed to the spare bed.  “It's under there if you want it.  You want anything else you should get it.  She scratched an itch at her stomach, frowning when she realized she'd smeared the charcoal along her abs.  “Damn it.”