any other day, one where the sun wasn’t in her eyes or the wind wasn’t messing up her hair — or where lili wasn’t paranoid that chicken shit had gotten underneath her fingernails — maybe lili would have tickled her competitive bone. but no, apparently that day was not today. and lili knew a losing game when it’s been had and from the get go — soap? was no winning contender in anyone’s book.
it wasn’t as if the people around here went through soaps as quickly as they would water — they couldn’t be that dirty, could they? she sniffs, trying not to appear too miffed by the idea before turning back to emi.
“surprised — why?” she feigns her own little raised brow in confusion, a smile playing on her lips as she looks at the juice cups. her finger dances in the air around them as she tries to choose, “which do you recommend, you’ve been here all day — which has been selling the most?”
she swore, just when she thought she had legacy figured out, they wanted to throw another curveball-- like sending them out into the country, having them feign for themselves, or at least it felt that way sometimes. really though, all mimi could do was cackle at the different shenanigans they had been put through. it was all in a good fun, and honestly, she hadn't realized how sick of the practice room she was until they were heading far far away from it.
fresh air would do her some good anyway, it had been a rough couple of weeks.
and she liked competing. it was fun, it lit a fire under her, even more so when she realized she was losing. so to say this weekend had been... eventful was an understatement. it was nice to get closer to the trainees and unnies, though.
sometimes, this makes it easier to feel like she fits in.
juice selling was going well, and the team was excited, hushed whispers around their future spoils of vicotry when the voice rings through and emi turns, blinks a bit at lili as she tries to hide her snort. she takes the bill with ease, moving to get change, and gestures to the juices. "take your pick, take your pick. i am a little surprised you wanted to get one from us, though." she admits with a chuckle.
ON ENEMY LINES. soapsuds will never quench her taste buds — @lgcxmimi
part of her wonders where the hell was this soap when she was surrounded by nothing but chicken shit. ugh, talk about timing — the stench of the herbal suds were giving her a headache, a migraine, whatever that now seemed to cease the further she got away from the numerous boxes that were currently hoarding the unsold bars.
what was more aggravating than the overwhelming smell was how unfair the sales were. how the fuck were they supposed to even sell soaps? if these village hicks couldn’t sell it, did they think some city dwellers who spent their days dancing hours on end in the basement could?
she frowns, they really must have hit the rock bottom of variety television.
chancing upon one of the younger girls, she reaches out with her own bill to them. not caring if she was aiding the ‘enemy’ — she needed a drink, and at least theirs would give her a temporary quench to whatever ailment she was suffering from.
“can i get one?” her head tilts to the jug at the side.