Thursday, 18 August 2011


“Lego Incongruous, they’re just shoes” sighed Venice, exasperated.
“No, it they were ‘just’ shoes I would have no problem. The fact of the matter is, they are stupid high and pointy. I mean, how do you even expect me to walk in them!?” exclaimed Lego, glaring at the pair of 4 inch satin heels in Venice’s hands.
“You just put one foot in front of the other, but as you managed to walk in here, me telling you that is a bit redundant” said Niall, waltzing into the room and plonking himself on a chair, utterly nonchalant. Lego stuck her tongue out at him and flicked a stray ribbon of lavender hair over her shoulder, before turning to Venice to continue the argument. However, Venice had her arms folded, and was looking at Niall with a curious and suspicious look on her face.
“Niall dear?” she asked. Niall paled, but hid it well. Venice only used terms of endearment when she was irritated at someone.
“Yes Venice, my lovely?” he replied, not skipping a beat.
“Niall” she said, advancing “you wouldn’t happen to know where Dr Guenuine is, would you dear?”
“I can’t say for certain...” Venice’s death glare encouraged him to continue “but he did say something about chatting up the lovely - though not as lovely as you - lady outside, the one with the odd looking gloves and knives? And the amber streaked hair” Venice smiled to herself and nodded with a raised eyebrow. She placed her hand on her knees and leant down so she was just above Niall’s slouched eye level.
“So, Niall, are you telling me that the reason Finn isn’t keeping you in the other room, drilling information into you that could and probably will save your life and that of many others, is because he is chatting up my lesbian hit-man adoptive sister?”
Niall paled, realising that this was one of the rare occasions he couldn’t talk his way out, just as Finn paused by the doorway.
“Hey Ven. Have you seen Nia...” stopping mid sentence and widening his eyes at Niall. He snorted and exchanged at look with Venice, whose body language was now much more relaxed, and was smiling. He opened his mouth to ask her something, but she just waved her hand.
“Go on, take him. You know how impossible I find it telling off this one. And...” she said, reaching behind her to grab Lego, who was inching towards the door.
“I have to convince this one into a pair of heels.”


  1. That is me.
    You write me better than I write myself.

    I'm not sure whether to congratulate you or get mad at you...

  2. I think that I can now conclude that there is nothing that you do not do amazingly. It kind of makes me want to pour hot tea down your face.

  3. *embarresed mutterings*

    I don't do social situations well, if that helps?

  4. not really, I could totally beat you at sucking at social situations. Like, I started putting a book in my purse when I go to a party so I can spend the time reading in the bathroom. Yeah...