Room 401, Sunday Evening

[ashockingbitch]

Jenny had a cigarette in one hand, her iPhone to her ear, a scotch on the rocks on the bedside table, and was painting her toenails. It was called multitasking, and she might have been better at it if that hadn't been her second scotch.

"So basically," she said by way of greeting, "the temporary principal is a prig and a bitch. The end."

Apollo sighed. "I'll get Midnighter."

"Why?"

"For you to rant at?"

"No, no, I like ranting at you. Also, I thought we agreed he was going to be Bert."

"He's not Bert, Jenny."

"Then he can be Ernie."

"Wait, are you drunk?"

"'Course. Don't sound so shocked. Your kid smokes."

"But she doesn't drink."

"She's seven. And are you sure?"

"...no," Apollo admitted. "But my failings as a parent are not the topic here." Jenny thought he kind of failed at changing the subject. "Your school's temporary principal is. What do you want me to do about it?"

Jenny shrugged, then saw that her nail polish had dripped onto the duvet. "Bugger. Nothing. I can handle myself. Might even have some fun with it. D'you know how to get I'm Not Really a Waitress out of cotton?"

"I don't even know what that is."

She sniffed. "And you call yourself a poof."

"I'm hanging up now, Jenny."

And he did, leaving Jenny staring at her phone indignantly. Apollo was no fun, she decided. No fun whatsoever.

((Door's closed, post is open!))