Snippet #1346735

Groaning softly, Skittles stared out the window of the car. "Come on, Modoka, don't give me that crap." her cousin muttered, and slid down the music on the radio. She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "Just drop it, dude." she muttered for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Her foot tapped lightly with the music, though it was a bit too quiet for her own tastes.
"Why are we going this way, anyways? Why New York?"

Skittles rolled her eyes, and rested her chin on her palm. "Because that's where we are supposed to go, okay?" she said softly, her voice cool, a bit low(Think Amy Lee). Her cousin glanced at her through his over grown, shaggy brown hair. "You could have driven there yourself..." he said rudely. She bristled lightly, crossing one thin leg over the other. "Alright, whatever."

Silence fell through the car, as they approached the airport. Her cousin kept glancing over at her, but didn't speak. Skittles didn't bother. They pulled the small convertible through the check point. The singer gave a slow, light yawn, exposing her pierced tongue for a moment. She leaned forward, and rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She closed her brown eyes, and allowed her mind to wander, forming another story with her words. She tapped one hand against her thigh, a matching beat easily coming to her mind.

Her cousin sighed as they pulled into a parking spot. He looked over at her. "Do I have to stay for your little reunion with your little band?" he muttered cruelly. Skittles was already sliding out of the door, a small backpack strap grasped firmly in one pale hand. "Go to hell for all I care." she snapped back, and slammed the door. She began to walk around, ready to open the trunk, and get out her other bags. "HEY!" the man yelled, pushing his way out of the car. He fell back, having forgotten to remove his seat belt.

"You can leave now." she said with a cold smile. She pushed open the trunk, and took out the larger bag. She stumbled back a few steps, almost losing her grip on the bag itself. She cursed, a bit loudly, and pushed the bag up with one hand, holding on to the black, fishnet bag in her left hand tightly. She groaned a bit, her bag hitting the ground as she avoided it. "Oh, COME ON!" she whined, and shouldered the backpack. "I mean, really?"