Post by caitlyn5 on Jul 8, 2010 18:20:49 GMT 10
The final customer approaching the stall made the red haired girl breathe a sigh of relief. It was getting dark, and Sam was getting tired of standing and selling things to the obsessed fans. Samantha hated those fans, they thought they knew everything about the bands they liked, when really, they knew nothing at all about what went on outside of the performances and signing sessions. The redheaded girl knew for a fact that most of the guys that played in the bands on tour pretended to be arrogant bastards, because that was the way their fans liked them, but really, they were actually nice guys when they wanted to be.It was in that moment, right there, with the sun setting and the last customer leaving that it occurred to Sam that she really had no idea whatsoever as to why she was on this tour.
So why was she on this tour? The question baffled the eighteen year old girl as she began to pack up the things on the table, only to be shooed away by another girl. Well, maybe it wasn’t her turn to pack up, but she liked to help. There wasn’t much to pack away anyhow; the fans had practically bought the place out. As usual.
She didn’t feel like following along to the parties tonight, all she did there was sit on the side with Naomi and they’d make comments about how stupid drunk people acted. It wasn’t like Sam could drink alcohol, unless she wanted to spend some time in hospital.
The girl ran a hand through her dyed hair, thinking of all the different things she could do with the rest of the night, spinning around in a circle, wrapped up in her thoughts, until somebody tapped her on the shoulder. Sam turned around faster than she’d been spinning, only to see a rather long line of people.
So, while her friends were off partying and drinking themselves stupid, she’d have to stay here. And sell things to the obsessed fans. Lovely.
Grabbing her hoodie and pulling it over her head, she then realised she couldn’t check if her hair was messed up. Letting out a sigh, she ran her hands through the dark red mass, hoping that if it was even messed up in the first place, that it looked alright now.
This was going to be a long night.
word count ;; enough.
tag, you're it ;; for anybody and anyone that wants it.
notes ;; hope it's good enough.
outfit ;; coming soon.
muse ;; decent-ish.
credit ;; scream your heart out @ caution. which is me. if you want to use this lazily coded piece of crap that i'm calling a thread template, just ask.
[/size][/center]So why was she on this tour? The question baffled the eighteen year old girl as she began to pack up the things on the table, only to be shooed away by another girl. Well, maybe it wasn’t her turn to pack up, but she liked to help. There wasn’t much to pack away anyhow; the fans had practically bought the place out. As usual.
She didn’t feel like following along to the parties tonight, all she did there was sit on the side with Naomi and they’d make comments about how stupid drunk people acted. It wasn’t like Sam could drink alcohol, unless she wanted to spend some time in hospital.
The girl ran a hand through her dyed hair, thinking of all the different things she could do with the rest of the night, spinning around in a circle, wrapped up in her thoughts, until somebody tapped her on the shoulder. Sam turned around faster than she’d been spinning, only to see a rather long line of people.
So, while her friends were off partying and drinking themselves stupid, she’d have to stay here. And sell things to the obsessed fans. Lovely.
Grabbing her hoodie and pulling it over her head, she then realised she couldn’t check if her hair was messed up. Letting out a sigh, she ran her hands through the dark red mass, hoping that if it was even messed up in the first place, that it looked alright now.
This was going to be a long night.
word count ;; enough.
tag, you're it ;; for anybody and anyone that wants it.
notes ;; hope it's good enough.
outfit ;; coming soon.
muse ;; decent-ish.
credit ;; scream your heart out @ caution. which is me. if you want to use this lazily coded piece of crap that i'm calling a thread template, just ask.