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October 6th, 2005

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12:28 am - *pose flex*
Scene: Shakira Asaal has been staying at a friend's house the past several days due to some... criminal problems. :) He comes home tired, she's there to (always) lighten the mood. This includes the LONGEST setting pose EVAR CREATED. It made me squeal with happiness.
Characters: Shakira Asaal and Flavio Tiberti (his poses are cut, but they are summarized)
MU**: The X-Files MUCK
Number Of Poses: 3
Series: Original

As the sun begins to descend into the western horizon, it casts a warm, hazy glow in the DC sky. Purples, pinks, oranges, and yellows blend in a gentle gradient, allowing for quite the picture-perfect backdrop. The mediocre light is filtered into the Special Agent's living room, where a certain Latina now resides. Seated cross-legged on the carpeted floor in front of the entertainment system, the chica has her back leaning against the coffee table as if this were her back lounger, and as if the sofa was somehow non-existant. Her attention is fixed upward to the television screen, which appears to be broadcasting a talk show in English. Damn that Flavio and his lack of Spanish channels. Despite the fact that there is at least one available, she'd rather be difficult and at least try to understand this now foreign, but excrutiatingly common American language in the most awful manner possible. Oprah deems it so.

Lacking in proper etiquette to acknowledge a dining table in the kitchen as well, the Colombian has set out in front of her a few small square boxes indicating the presence of Chinese food. One has to wonder where she got the money to order Chinese. But anyway, she also deems it necessary to use chopsticks, and must occasionally throw her head back to slurp the noodles by way of the odd utensils in her right hand. The few mishaps she's had using them have only left a few pieces of food on the carpet, because she figured she'd take care of that -after- the meal is finished. While munching on her dinner, she often cocks her head to the side a little, nose scrunched as she tries to comprehend not only what is being said, but also why these tontos must insist on sobbing every five minutes.

But this whole scene probably wouldn't be so unusual if it weren't for the immediate distracting factor: Shakira Asaal once again has blonde hair. Falling down past her shoulders in all of its curly glory, the tresses are as bright a gold as ever, having left no room for the blackness to breathe its final goodbye. The only obvious hint passed to any witnesses (would there be any) that this was not professionally done is the few marks of a blue substance on either cheek, signaling the presence of bleach. Well alright, so the empty Feria box is discarded in the bathroom's trash, but no matter. So one also has to wonder where she got the money for that box of Feria. Oh, probably those clothes that she's wearing too; a pair of slightly baggy green satin pajama pants and a black camisole are the outfit of choice this evening.

So, throwing this all together, it's an amusing setting indeed. Amusing, one rightly assumes, even if you're coming home from a long day at work to discover it all.

(He comes in from work tired, plops on the couch, notices her hair, and says it looks nice. He then proceeds to ask her where she got the money to do it.)

The arrival of the hombre is unexpected, perhaps due to the femme's complete attention on the television screen. Instinctly though, she turns her head to glance in his direction as the Agent enters the house, passing him probably the most stupid, extremely amused grin known to humankind. "Que onda Chulo," she greets in her native tongue, giving no regard (innocently of course) to his worn, exhausted demeanor. As he plops down on the sofa behind her, she leans her head aaaall the way back in that direction, expression becoming all the more enlightened as Flavio compliments her hair. "Thaynyoooooo!" she singsong purrs in the English language, her first attempt in several months to speak it. That question he asked though, hehehehe. He doesn't really expect a /full/ truth, does he? "Ehm, ya lo tuve, el dinero." Don't trust a criminal concerning money. It just doesn't happen.

(He sees her watching Oprah and says that she shouldn't be watching any talk shows [especially in English] because they're all crap.)

"Bueno, que programa me quisieras ver?" teases the Colombian in a rebuttal, left hand fumbling around the carpet for the remote while her head remains anchored in its farthest position, and dark eyes fixed on an upside-down Flavio. This does not last long though, because she quickly realizes that the remote is partially hidden underneath her body. Whoops! Now how did THAT get there! Her left rear cheek raises a little as she pulls out the switching device from underneath, and then she happily offers it to him. Her right hand lowers to set the chopsticks down into the nearest open box of Chinese food, and then ...she looks down at the few noodles partying on the carpet. Blushing a little with her folly, Shakira giggles and places the noodles back in the box with her own fingers. Five uh... minute? rule! But maybe that still wasn't such a good idea after she had bleached her own hair.

"Tienes hambre, Flavito?" she asks, turning her torso towards the sofa and places the leftovers on the coffee table, legs sprawling out in a V-shape in front of her.

It's actually nice to see her in such good spirits, all tomfoolery aside. The past several days, one could notice a dramatic improvement in Shakira Asaal. She's filled out from being taken care of, and for once (in months) taking care of herself. It's left her more confident, and thus she's at the quintessence of her own character. If only she'd just stop sneaking out though... that could lead to bad news. Bad, bad news. Though it's not exactly smart to chain up such a free spirit, either.
Current Mood: pleasedpleased

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