<div class="floatleft">(http://whisty.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/blonde-smoke-shades-weheartit2.png?w=655)</div><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;"><strong>Piper Adams</strong></span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">The Mouth<br/>Ignoring people</span><br/>not un-aproachable<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>"It doesn't really fucking matter, dude," she spit towards Nick in a quiet frustration. On the outside, Piper had disguised the bitter sentence as a joke, something to be taken lightly, something to be forgotten about in the next ten or fifteen minutes; likely while the fireworks were exploding. It wasn't. Piper had a serious issue with people, in one care free moment, she wanted to be talked to, in the next, every word from anothers mouth felt like retarded rambling, or delusional behaviour.<br/><br/>She had swallowed half of her drink to his toast about a bang. The liquid wasn't settling very well though, and then he had asked her a question that deserved no answer. Imagery, irony, and the urge to slap a baby in the jaw. A thick flavor, tight syrup, sweat, and the fact that she didn't belong. Piper's head was too full to communicate, she wasn't even drunk yet, and she was already pissed off about nothing.<br/><br/>So she walked away, leaving her halfed cup of jaggermeifter next to Nick's empty hand. The food was ready, but that wasn't a good reason. the night had turned dark, but she wasn't carrying any fireworks.<br/><br/>Piper ignored everyone, she walked right passed the food, the drinks, Claire, the cheer, the laughing, and the scorching vision of Adriano. She pulled her cigarettes out of her jaket.<br/><br/>There may have been a patio, or a deck above the street, but she didn't care. The window was square in the center of her vision, and she marched with a slick lighter in her left hand. Piper grabbed the window and threw it ope, the wood slammed into the frame, and she failed to turn and guage anyone's reaction. Piper dropped her cigarettes, her lighter, and her jacket on the floor, only to pick up her smoking tools again. She straddled the window sill, and poked her head out over the city. Her left hand, and her left shin were the only things keeping her from spilling out onto the concrete. It looked dangerous.<br/><br/>The smoke helped some, in a way it only made her angrier, but perhaps her private adolescent tantrum would reset the balance of the room. Breathing turned into a chore, and the pain felt better than any form of speed, explosions, food, sex, or drink. 'je'taime' she thought to herself, in loving favor of her favorite habit.