"If I had imaginary friends, I'm sure they'd be crushed by the lack of devotion." Her heart is a heathen land, it's true, and she has no reason to change it. Church and mass and saints' days don't figure much into her life beyond Sunday mass being that place her fiance goes while she gets brunch ready. He's not very helpful in the kitchen anyway. Far too distracting. There are more than enough ridiculous secular holidays if she wants to celebrate. An entire day for candy corn. A month for fondue. She's not lacking in reasons to feast, and fasting's not her style.
Maybe she'd understand better if she'd had distant or elderly family. Mostly it was just her and her mom, and now it's the family she's cobbling together for herself. Concern for people she didn't choose for herself is something of a foreign concept to her. Misanthropy in the 21st century is so terribly easy to indulge.
Much better! Bobbi pants contentedly. Such a happy girl.
He can have his pass, but it comes with her smirk. "The truth is rarely wonderful." Neither, she knows, is she. "What does 'Iago' mean? I've only heard it in stories."
Charming... no, not so much. Not judging by that face she's making. "Why? What's the point of looking at the hopefully mummified head of a dead person?"
The early years of chiropractics?
Maybe she'd understand better if she'd had distant or elderly family. Mostly it was just her and her mom, and now it's the family she's cobbling together for herself. Concern for people she didn't choose for herself is something of a foreign concept to her. Misanthropy in the 21st century is so terribly easy to indulge.
Much better! Bobbi pants contentedly. Such a happy girl.
He can have his pass, but it comes with her smirk. "The truth is rarely wonderful." Neither, she knows, is she. "What does 'Iago' mean? I've only heard it in stories."
Charming... no, not so much. Not judging by that face she's making. "Why? What's the point of looking at the hopefully mummified head of a dead person?"