[center][color=thistle][h3]Mariska Costas[/h3][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Faraday Heights; 28A
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: Mordred Hame ([@Gisk]), John Taylor ([@Ghost Queen])[/i]

[hr][img]http://i.imgur.com/h8HD4dh.gif[/img][hr]


The sound of sizzling meat was downright musical first thing in the morning, and the smell wasn't far behind either. It made Mariska grin as she took another sip of water, though the grin was obscured by the rim of her mug. It wouldn't do to smile wide so early, and without having even properly applied makeup. Fortunately, John and Mordred - wherever the latter was - were trustworthy enough to know the Mariska that didn't appear under the spotlight. [color=thistle]"Well I imagine a wolf has trouble focusing or whatever when it comes time to do what comes naturally. Not saying it's easy, mind, but if Others can keep their lust, blood or otherwise, in check then this dead one ought to as well, yeah?"[/color] Mariska shrugged her shoulders at that; she was more concerned about the Unseelie and their protest than a dead wolf. One of those things could impact her. [color=thistle]"Guess the love affair with the hairy kinds are over now that they're not glitter and glamour and beastly where it counts."[/color] 

Upon being asked about her gig, Mariska nearly spilled water from her shocked gasp of a chuckle. Oh, how she could go on and on about it, but she knew enough courtesy not to simple drone about what was still a successful show...in the sense that she still wound up paid despite the very subtle and very classless heckling. [color=thistle]"It went as well as you'd expect a show for a bunch of old sorts on the outs to go. I think they were just glad for the distraction, but I do miss a good night club. There at least I might have someone buying me a drink afterwards instead of asking me to move aside so they could watch the late news or whatever. But how was...uh...the shop? Any ridiculous requests that they'll regret?"[/color] 

Mariska looked over towards John with expectant eyes just as the front door opened and the third member of the flat entered in appropriately timely and dramatic fashion. [color=thistle]"Mornin', Mord. We was just talking about that. Thing is, though, some Others are to blame for this, right? Some Unseelie Fae protest in all their wisdom. But, mate, you might wanna slow...nevermind."[/color] Mariska was momentarily concerned about the speed in which Mordred drank his coffee, but shrugged it off after the fact. Some people were just excellent coffee drinkers. [color=thistle]"Anyway, Mord, you doing alright? Bit late to be getting home. Or, I guess early depending. Late night?"[/color] Her water was almost gone again, but now her fingers were simply cradled around the mug for comfort.[/center]