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Jennie:
I want a grey goose martini.
Rosé:
Sure you don't want a bloody mary?
Jennie:
How many times do I have to tell you you're not funny?
Rosé:
Then why are you smiling?
Jennie:
Because you're wearing a sheer white shirt with no bra.
Rosé:
What! I didn't notice—why would you wait until we're at the club to tell me this?
Jennie:
Well, you have such a wonderful sense of humor I thought you'd find it amusing.
Rosé:
I thought mockery wasn't the product of a strong mind?
Jennie:
Perhaps not, but it is a way to irritate the bloody hell out of you as my form of sick revenge.
______________________________
Rosé gathered her clothes up in her hands and walked out of the stranger's room. Tenth time in a week, she thought cheerily. She was just sweeping through the population of New York, wasn't she?
Except for one, she remembered, lips twisting sourly. That damn vampire she lived with was determined to pretend there was nothing there, no matter how many times Rosé "accidentally" forgot to lock the bathroom door when she was bathing. Oh well. She didn't need her anyway. Jennie was a bloodsucker, after all. Rosé was a fairy. She could do better than a tick.
When she entered the apartment and spotted Jennie sitting at the kitchen bar reading the paper, her heart kickstarted in her chest. How embarrassing.
"Just getting in from another night of mundane, meaningless sex?" asked Jennie as she idly turned the page of the newspaper.
"Definitely not mundane," said Rosé delicately as she glided across the kitchen to retrieve a bowl of cereal. "He was very good at what he was doing, actually."
"Really." Jennie idly turned the page again. "What was his name? Did he know your name? Did he even bother to ask, or were you not that memorable?"
That wiped the smile off Rosé's face. "Go to hell."
