Millie looked like a drowned rat. Her hair was soaked from the rain, clinging together and dripping down her chest and back and her tank top stuck to her like a second skin. She was shivvering by the time she walked into the hideout. [i]Thank god it's not white.[/i] She thought, watching Deon's eyes rake over her like some kind of animal. She walked over to the crate at the back of the room and dragged out a towel that she draped over her shoulders and used to dry her hair off a little bit.

Her teeth ground together at the sound of the nickname Deon had christened her with. There was little privacy in their hideout and Millie hadn't been raised to be shy about her body, so she stripped off the soaked vest top, throwing it and the towel at Deon's head. She pulled a grey hoodie on over her underwear. "I'm good, thanks." She said, in response to his comments about the alcohol. "Aren't you fighting later? Surely you need all your wits about you for that. Well, whatever wits you claim to have, anyway." She joked, making her way over to the cupboard in the corner and taking out a packet of biscuits.. "What do you think? Could tonight be the night that the infamous Deon is finally going to be dethroned?" She sat down on the loveseat beside him, curling her legs beneath herself and biting into one of the biscuits. She was finally warming up, but her hair was still dripping, uncomfortably, down her back. 

She saw Victor walk in and look at her up and down and she rolled her eyes, watching him as he went to get a drink and then moved over to where she and Deon were sitting. [i]"How goes it D?"[/i] Millie waited to be acknowledged, but when it didn't come she cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of her.

"Hello? Either [i]I'm[/i] invisible, or [i]you're[/i] sexist." She remarked, with a sarcastic little smirk on her pretty features.