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[hr][b]Location:[/b] Zoie's House
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Mali carried the back of the group, shutting the door to the front of the farm behind her. She almost stopped when her brain realized that [i]I'm about to step into a limo.[/i] This wasn't right. Her life wasn't this. What the fuck was she doing? She wasn't rich, or some kid whose parents gave them enough money to make a flashy entrance to prom night. But she didn't let herself get caught up in the existential crisis her brain had thrown her into and managed to get all buckled up without issue. (Well it wasn't an [i]existential[/i] crisis given that she wasn't questioning the purpose of life and despairing at the inherent futility of a transient existence in an infinite universe without some greater structure of morality with which to govern everything, but it was still something of a crisis.)

[color=D5FF00]"If anyone doesn't need more ass-kickings, it's him. But if you're going to be spoiling me, does this make you my Sugar Mama?"[/color] Mali managed to shake off the feeling of utter wrongness in her gut just in time to catch onto the conversation. [color=D5FF00]"Kind of odd for a whore to buy a service she provides on a regular basis,"[/color] she teased. Idly, she noticed that Zoie's jacket was unbuttoned, which kind of irked her. Why button up the jacket if you're going to undo it as soon as you leave the house?