xp_logs | Amanda and Monet: Sunday night.

Amanda stumbled from her room, heading for the girls' bathrooms. She was so tired her thoughts had narrowed to: 'Shower. Bed.' without the usual interposing of 'Food.' Food would have to wait until morning, when she wasn't in danger of falling asleep with her head in the fridge.

This early in the evening the bathrooms were deserted, which suited her perfectly. She'd taken to showering at strange times to avoid meeting anyone in a semi-clothed state, but she desperately wanted to get the medlab smell off her. Locking the door behind her, Amanda began the task of stripping off layers of clothes. She was struggling with her bra, which somehow always became so much more complicated when she was tired, when the door slammed open, the light catch ripping out and the door bouncing off the wall.

"Fucking hell," exclaimed the girl stomping into the room. "Oops. Well." Monet held the door open with one hand, and just stood there.

"What the fuck...?" Amanda looked up, startled by the door slamming open. By this stage she was down to her underwear, and the harsh bathroom lighting was unrelenting in what it illuminated. When Monet did nothing more than stare, Amanda bristled. "Seen enough, have yer?"

Monet blinked a few times, then stepped forward, finally letting the door close. "Fuck, that's ugly." She squinted. "Did you know?" she asked, still staring.

Amanda inhaled. She'd had this reaction before, the last time from a twerp of a police constable who'd searched her for drugs after a raid on an illegal rave. But to hear it from one of the happy shiny 'let's be polite to everyone' inhabitants of the mansion was unexpected, to say the least. So unexpected, the usual snappy comebacks had deserted her. She wrapped her arms defensively around her torso and said: "What?"

Apparently confused by this response, Monet frowned. "You," she said carefully, slowly as though to an idiot, "are bloody awfully scarred." She seemed struck by a revolting thought. "You are one of those loonies who do it on purpose, are you? Cutting and picking at the scabs and stuff. That's disgusting."

"Wha... Fuck, no! You'd have to be a bleedin' nutter to do this t' yerself!" Amanda grabbed her towel and clutched it to her front. "Not that it's any of your fuckin' business."

"Who knows what nutters there are around here," Monet shrugged. With an absolute disregard for privacy, she lifted walked over and shifted the towel. "Those are fucking hiddeous," she added in a gleefully disgusted tone. "They healed really badly."

Amanda backed away, twitching the towel from Monet's fingers. She was bewildered by the whole scene. 'This is what happens when you let your guard down' said an inner voice with something like cynical glee. "D'you mind? Like I said, it's none o' yer fucking business!"

Monet raised her hands in mock surrender. "Whatever, man. I was just looking. I was just gonna say that I heard coconut butter is good on scars, but hey, don't mind me, miss prissypants." Monet turned and got out her toothbrush and the toothpaste. "Some people are just insanely tetchy."

"'Tetchy'...? Yer unbelievable, you know that?" Wrapping the towel around her shoulders and grabbing her clothes in a haphazard bundle, Amanda pushed past Monet and dashed out of the bathroom, fortunately into an empty hallway. Monet raised an eyebrow in the direction she'd gone and shrugged.

"Tetchy," she muttered once more, before going back to brushing her teeth.