<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://www.fashiongonerogue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/nicole-meyer-model03.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Yolande Solomon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Yolande's Room<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Sept. 6th, 6:50 pm<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Salem Summers<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Fresh out the shower, uninterested and rude.<br/><hr/><br/>Yolande had just had a long shower, having got lucky in getting a room with an attached bathroom. Perhaps they took some kind of pity on her after her rough arrival. Regardless, it was nice, and she needed to make sure she was fresh and beautiful for the evening. She'd just pulled on a nightie while she dried her hair and picked out an outfit. She really needed to get a nice soft dressing gown, although she certainly couldn't be seen in one. There was definitely no elegance to be had there, but something could be said for the comfort. Then she heard a knock at her door, pulling her out of the rapidly planning shopping trip.<br/><br/><strong>"For fuck's sake..." </strong>She groaned, just loud enough to be audible to whoever was outside.<br/><br/>She stalked across her room with a particularly bitchy expression on her face. She did not have time for this bullshit, whatever it might be. Eventually she opened the door and looked over the woman standing there. She glanced up and down and shook her head blatantly. What the fuck was that sweater. She looked like she put no effort, and nowhere near enough money, into what she wore. Yolande was almost embarrassed for her. After all, she was quite pretty, and it was mostly the clothing letting her down. But she didn't seem like the type to care nearly as much as she should. At a glance she read like a typical good little hall monitor. When Yolande spoke her voice was blunt and clear, although as usual her trained voices pitch and pronunciation were beautiful. It'd been so long that even when she was rude she sounded classy, she really couldn't avoid the impacts of so many elocution lessons.<br/><br/><strong>"Who are you? And what do you want?"</strong><br/><br/>Maybe she fancied her or something. Or wanted to talk about the news. God that was getting old. Perhaps she'd have a look for herself if the reply was too boring.