[center][color=D5FF00][i][h1]Mali Anson[/h1][/i][/color][hr][b]Location:[/b] Diamond District
[b]Skills:[/b]N/A[hr][hr][/center]
Mali knew it was most likely just for the purpose of shortening down "hydradermabrasion" down to something that could be remembered by normal people, but naming any sort of beauty treatment after a greek monster of any sort intentionally or no was not a way to make it sound appealing. Sure there were worse options to pick from (say, the Medusa Treatment: [i]"beauty so stunning he'll be frozen in awe"[/i]), but a multi-headed lizard that was constantly being beheaded was not some sort of ideal to strive for, unless a detail that was never carried over into English tellings was how baby-smooth the beast's hide was as Iolaus burned its bleeding neck stumps with a torch.

[color=D5FF00]"So had any luck with your love life,"[/color] asked Mali when she was given the invitation to speak. She was seventy percent sure that the reason she'd asked was because she hadn't entirely left the daydream head space that she'd inhabited half a minute ago, but no matter the reason for it, she regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She didn't know this woman, and yet the second thing she asked her about was potentially deeply personal information. What kind of ice-breaker topic was that? There were a million other, less awkward things to speak about that wouldn't completely kill the intended mood of relaxation and rejuvenation.

Of course, she'd probably heard maybe ten of them a thousand times. "What's the job like?" "Do you also get work done here?" "What's your work-out routine?" Assuming she was even asked questions all that often. Mali had the gut feeling that the people usually in the chair preferred to talk at length about themselves and their own personal troubles and grievances. That was how these things were supposed to go, right?