Trish's Apartment

[Trish]

Death by kitten is not the most dignified way to kick the bucket. This is why, when her little 'woobie' -- also called Seamus -- decided to settle himself across her face and restrict her breathing, Beatrice Caine -- also called Trish -- had no choice but to awaken and remove the mischievous little furball from her head.

"Mmph," she grumbled as she picked Seamus up and held him aloft as she lay on her back. "Morning, precious. Who needs an alarm clock when I've got you, huh?"

Seamus mewled sweetly and as usual, Beatrice beamed up at him. She sat up with a yawn, scratching a hand through her messy hair as she glanced blearily around the room. Posters, post-it notes, and random photos littered the walls; it was chaotic, but it suited her. A glance to her right and she saw the large, pirate-themed calender on her wall with the day's appointments scribbled in their appropriate square. She was due in at Sonny's parlor in about an hour; plenty of time to feed Seamus and get ready.

"All right, Woobie," she spoke to the little feline as she tucked him against her side and shuffled from bed. "Let's get breakfast, huh?"

[Trish]

As Seamus happily buried his face in a bowl of crunchy cat food, his owner paced around the kitchen with a large, protein-enhanced fruit smoothie (fresh fruit, of course), sipping leisurely. Some would find her breakfast habits a bit strange, but her smoothies were damn tasty, thanks very much, and they didn't make her feel all groggy afterwards. That was her story, and she was sticking to it. A nice, big smoothie was also easy to slurp on the go when she was late for work which, according to the clock on the microwave, she was about to be.

Whoops...that's what I get for spacing out.

The smoothie was quickly chugged so Trish could dress, throwing on a black tanktop and a pair of tattered jeans with her chain belt for accent. She swiped on makeup (bright green on her eyes and her 'trademark' red matte lips), slipped into a pair of chunky sneakers and one of her lighter jackets, and brushed her teeth quickly before she jogged back to the kitchen.

"C'mon, Sea; we're late," she said to Seamus, scooping the little rascal up and setting him on her shoulder. Purse and keys in hand, she shut and locked the door behind her, and scampered down the hallway.

Continued in: The Parking Garage[/i]