👡🎞⏳ ━━ IN WHICH brandy monroe had an air of vintage drenched in perfume on the right side of her neck, rouge painted on her cheeks, and a classic love for percy jackson.
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In which brandy slowly...
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CENTRAL PARK; 1958, May 5th.
THE CIGARETTE BUD WAS DYING. In the ashtray, the end had pale pink lipstick engraved into the rolled paper while the smell of the smoke-stained their tongue and teeth, leaving the acrid taste of nicotine in the raw air.
Brandy coughed, her timid hand pressed down on her chest as if she willed her lungs to stop seizing. She reached for the glass chalice, its rose water seeming all the more appealing now that her throat was burning.
Hidden in a sun hat, her blue eyes were covered by her cat sunglasses, veiled by the shade the white oak tree produced she placed her hands in her lap, tears resting on her waterline by her coughing fit.
"I'll never be doing that again," she swallowed the water, cheeks red and patchy.
Robert smiled at her, glancing over her shoulder before fingering for a strawberry. He smoked regularly, a habit Brandy despised and he knew that, all the more reason to get her to try it. "Have a strawberry, sugar. It'll help."
He handed it to her and glanced over her should once more, the sugar-coated fruit cooled her taste buds as its juice rested on her lips. Brandy noticed his attention wavering and frowned. She had planned this picnic, especially for him, she even packed the chocolate squares he adored so dearly.
"What's got your attention cut so short?" She turned to look in the direction his eyes were following. Noticed a man with a large camera strolling down a path in Central Park.
Her eyes snapped back to Robert. There was a grin hidden behind the facade of his sunken eyebrows. Tugging on her sun hat, she let out a frustrated sigh and made a move to get up, signaling the bodyguard that stood near the tree that paralleled the one they were sitting under. "I don't appreciate this at all, Robert." She reached for a strawberry one last time. "What if they caught me smoking one of those things?"
His lips upturned into a small smirk. "Appreciation has nothing to do with it, dolly."
BRANDY BLINKED. A cough was settled in-between her lungs as if she could still feel the smoke of that dreadful cigarette. Her eyes focused on a smirking Percy Jackson, who had long been released from the infirmary and was just recently seen playing pinochle with Mr. D and Chiron.
Bethie and Brandy were tasked with showing Percy cabin eleven, but that job seemed to be more dizzying than lodging a death stick in between your teeth as it sucks all the life out of you when you breathe in.
