sweet nothing.

renewal.

TW: Drugs, Smoking, Drinking, Drunk Driving Mention

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Midnights grumbled, twisting her body to face the opened car door; lifting herself up with the palms of her hands only to be faced with a junction she had no intention of wanting to be near, but she was.

"Have a good day!" The driver of said vehicle cheerfully waved, hoping for an answer back but was met with ill-intent as Midnights slammed the metal and grasped her clutch handbag; its sparkles only having a few left as a means of being picked off over the course of several years. Ignoring the car behind skirting off the curb, she huffed a puff of air when walking towards the convention; begrudgingly making her way to the assigned commitment she was forced into. Getting behind the booth, Midnights recognized a few faces from rehab but had no care to learn names; bending to place her bag under the cloth.

"Hey, how're you doing?" It was some girl who was also in the same place as Midnights, seeming to want to make conversation. Instead, she was meant with an eye roll and wave of the hand as Midnights had no intention of talking, making friends, or even being fully here today. Resting her elbow on the table, Midnights watched the auction from not too far, trying not to think about, well anything really. She was sure plenty of people came to the table asking what this was about but she left those discussions for the others; with how cheerful one of them was, Midnights was sure they could manage without her.

Many things were sold for a heaping amount of money; it was a charity auction specifically designated for those higher ups, which is probably why Midnights' rehabilitation counselor wanted it to be here, more money involved after all. Many numbers from the auctioneer who spoke billions of miles per hour came through; mainly items like paintings, glass, china, or even wine bottles being on the ballet. Then the last item came through: an antique chandelier made of bronze cultivated in architecture of different animals with shimmering glass hanging from all around. It was pretty, Midnights would admit, but it seemed to be of just a simple chandelier.

"One hundred thousand dollars, do I hear one hundred thousand dollars?" And there was his voice again, speaking so fast and yet so pronounced. Since it was the last one of the day she was more focused on it, hearing it go from one hundred thousand quickly to two hundred then three hundred until finally it was half of a million dollars. "Sold to the uhh, pink blonde haired girl!" He seemed hesitant to say it but Midnights found it humorous.

One of these rich guys dying their hair? Unheard of.

And with that, it ended and many of them came to where she was, asking about their program and how much they can donate and where to do so; shit Midnights rolled her eyes at. "Yeah, feel better about your hoards of wealth there bud, don't mind me about to be failed by the system again." She mumbled under her breath, her voice spitting of anger just loud enough.

"What was that?" It was the same girl from earlier, confused as to what she just heard.

"Nothing, it's almost eight o'clock, why don't you head home early. Milfred made it pretty clear I would be the one packing up all this shit."

"Are you sure? I can stay-"

"No!" It was probably more rude than she realized, "just go." And so the woman left.

Sighing, Midnights bent down and moved the cloth, rummaging through her purse for the zipped bag of weed and rolled paper she had stashed.

"Good day to you! How do you fare this evening?"

The sudden remark surprised Midnights, causing her to whip up while still under; head hitting the table. "OW!"

"Oh, my dear, are you quite alright?" Rubbing the back of her head, she made her way up; her lips in the form of a scowl.