Pretty Whitewashed Lies [chelle]

[DINAH EVELYN DONALD]

NO BIG DIFFERENCES THESE DAYS,JUST THE SAME OLD WALKAWAYS
SOME DAY I'M GOING TO STAY, BUT NOT TODAY

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Dinah was always her best when she was on assignment. She didn't really know why that was, but it had pretty much always been the case, even back when she was a kid running cons with her father. Something about slipping into a different skin had a calming effect on her that all the medications in the world couldn't seem to replicate. The borrowed skins were better, they were stronger, they knew what to say and how to act. They were people with lives that made sense, and people who understood their own motivations.

Sometimes when she was at her most spastic, Dinah was tempted to slip into one of these borrowed skins and just stay there. Create another girl who was coincidentally also named Dinah Donald and who also worked for the CIA. Maybe she was even good with numbers and computers. But she'd be whole. She wouldn't have ghosts haunting her, and images that burned themselves into the inside of her eyelids every time she closed her eyes. It might be easier, but... Dinah wasn't ready to completely give up on herself either.

Still, she was always glad to take undercover work when it was offered, glad of that brief respite from being herself. Today's persona was meant to blend in with the upperclass business people who came and went from Starbucks, so she'd gone for something both simple yet sophisticated: an expensive, tailored suit in a muted grey, instead of the dull black most New Yorkers seemed to prefer. Her hair was pulled up in a twist that was both practical but flattering, and the whole thing was topped off (bottomed off?) with a pair of expensive pumps. Thank God the CIA was paying for it all, since the outfit alone would have taken a serious bite into her meagre savings.

She was supposed to be a Columbia student applying for her first internship with a major conglomerate. The interview had gone well, she thought, but it was irrelevant whether she got the job or not, really. The interview had been enough to get her in past security, and she'd printed off everything she needed before she'd left. Still, it would be a good door to leave open in case the CIA needed to send her back, so she'd been careful not to burn any bridges on her way out.

She sat alone now at a table, keeping the other seat free even though the place was packed. Her back was to the wall and she faced out towards the plate glass window that lined the street, giving her a good vantage point to see everyone coming and going and even just walking past. While she waited for her contact, she sipped on a cup of overpriced coffee, her legs crossed at the knee, her pump hanging off her heel, bouncing slightly as she wriggled her toes within it.

She checked her expensive watch and frowned, but looked up just in time to see her contact finally approaching. After all that waiting, the exchange took almost no time at all. She handed over a manilla envelope to the rather nondescript man. After sliding the document free just far enough to confirm it was what she expected, he'd nodded and headed off again.

She should have really returned straight to the headquarters, but Dinah was reluctant to give up the persona so quickly. Besides, she hadn't finished her drink yet. Sitting back in her seat and picking up her cup, she sipped at her coffee and contented herself to just people watch for the moment, once again alone at her table. She was amazed at how busy it all seemed, everyone in such a rush, but seeming to know exactly what they were doing. She would have envied them that certainty of purpose, but today she wasn't the skittish teenager, she was someone else, and had a purpose of her own.

[MICHELLE AMELINE PRIDEUX]

AND IF YOU'RE STILL BREATHING YOU'RE THE LUCKY ONES CAUSE MOST OF US ARE
HEAVING THROUGH CORRUPTED LUNGS COLLECTING NAMES OF

Chelle was best when she was around people. She was an extrovert, and she shone brighter than the sun in crowds. She was just loud enough to be heard, but sweet enough to be loved. It was a skill she'd picked up from only God knew where, but it was also part of her natural personality. It was something that people were drawn to. She was almost over friendly, too quick to trust and too easily won over. She was simple, and that was something that complicated things way too much sometimes. She didn't think about it, much. She wasn't a deep thinker. She was much more the go-with-the-flow type, though not many people knew that. Most people in the fashion world were not. They were all control freaks with huge egos, or planners that made sure everything followed their order down to the last detail. Chelle was almost a calming energy in her work place, just because a sweet smile could usually calm down her boss. She was a pet, really, and she didn't mind it, not one bit. She liked being appreciated, she liked feeling like she belonged. She had been missing out on that feeling for a long time, and she would take it where she could get it.

She also loved sweets, but that was something that people knew just from observing her in the briefest of ways. She liked sweets, but she also was someone that was very health conscious, and so most of the time, if she went to Starbucks, she'd be getting something involving fruits. Their smoothies were to die for, especially the strawberry vanilla one, but there were some days when her sweet tooth wouldn't settle for that. It was then, as her heels clip-clopped through the Starbucks, and to the long line, that she decided today would be a treat. She was dressed in contrast today, something that she enjoyed doing a bit too much. She didn't do it often, so when she did, she had a bit of fun. She was wearing a white mini dress that was quite plain, until she'd thrown on some layered necklaces. On top of it was a light, black leather jacket, paired with four inch heels that were the definition of black and white color blocking. Add in a messy braid, and she knew she looked fabulous. Fashion was in her blood, as well as good taste. She was proud to say that she had such an affinity for it, really, as some of the people she worked with - even if she wasn't at all the mean type - did not, and she could tell they were in the field for the money, and not for any enjoyment. Not the enjoyment that she got from the job, at least.

"One tall vanilla bean, extra whip and a blueberry scone," she ordered from the girl at the register, handing over her credit card when the price appeared. She wasn't worried - money wasn't an object for her. On top of making her own money, she always had her father, who would never cut her off. She was spoiled, she'd admit it - but at least she paid her own rent, mostly with the money she earned. It wasn't like her father would be hurting for money in his lifetime - or three lifetimes after him. Picking up the brown paper bag with the Starbucks logo on it that contained her scone, and soon after getting her drink, she scanned the Starbucks. It was full to the brim, but then again, this was when everyone was taking their afternoon break. She spotted a girl sitting at a table against the wall, and figured she'd try her luck grabbing that seat, since she was sitting on her own, and seemed too relaxed to be waiting or looking out for someone. Chelle wasn't the best judge of character, and she wasn't too observant either, but she figured that it was worth a shot - hopefully she wouldn't be mean and say no on principle. She'd shared a table more than once, but then again, not all New Yorkers were kind. "Hi, is this seat taken?"

T A G G E D ? ! dinah~
W O R D C O U N T ? ! seven fourteen
M U S E ? ! i made it work
N O T E S ? ! hopefully she doesn't startle dinah? xD
C R E D I T ? ! graphic credit goes to YOU GO BECKY COCO. of caution two point oh. lyric credit goes to daughter with the song youth.

[DINAH EVELYN DONALD]

NO BIG DIFFERENCES THESE DAYS,JUST THE SAME OLD WALKAWAYS
SOME DAY I'M GOING TO STAY, BUT NOT TODAY

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Ordinarily these crowds would have had her freaking out, literally clawing at the walls or even fleeing in escape. Dinah could still feel that panic tickling at the back of her mind, but she forced it down, going to that Zen place she could only find when she was undercover and therefore not herself. Her cover persona wasn't exactly outgoing, but she was cool, collected, showing grace under fire and never bowing under pressure. At least that's the girl she had shown during the interview she'd recently finished, answering even the most demanding question without having to stammer or stall. And the hiring committee had seemed to like her.

Dinah thought she would almost miss this Columbia girl once she went back to being her old self. But that happened almost every time she went out undercover. She rarely chose to be someone she didn't like, which made it easier to slip into their skin, but that much harder to say goodbye at the end of each mission. If her life had been different, perhaps she would have thought to try acting, but as it was, acting was so foreign it had never even occurred to her, and yet going undercover was seen as perfectly natural.

Of course, this mission -- as all missions -- was about more than just playing the role of someone else. She'd had a purpose, and was now thinking back over what she'd seen and overheard. The computer files were the main thing she'd been tasked with getting, but with her memory, it was sometimes the little things she recalled that would make all the difference in the world to a particular case file. So as she watched the people go rushing by, she let her mind drift back over her rather eventful afternoon, solidifying the memories and looking for anything notable she might have noticed but failed to recognize.

It caught her a bit by surprise then when someone was suddenly addressing her, pulling her from her thoughts. If she'd been herself, she would have flailed about, but as it was, she just looked over sharply, her body tensing but otherwise not moving. She hadn't really paid much attention to the voice or even what it had said, so she almost expected it to be her contact, back for God only knew what reason. But as she looked over, she found it was... very decidedly not her contact.

She blinked a few times and then tried to quickly cover with a wry smile. "I'm sorry what?" But even as she asked it, the words came back up from her memory and reformed themselves to make a question, and one that even made sense, and she gave a little laugh at her own silliness. "Oh, uh, no. It's free. Help yourself," she said, gesturing towards it with a nod of her head. "Sorry, I don't even know where my head goes sometime," she went on with a bit of self-deprecating humour, as she shook her head. Her cover persona wasn't really scattered, but then, she'd just had an important interview. Dinah figured it was hardly that unlikely she'd be a bit distracted as she thought back on her day, wondering if she'd be hearing back on that internship she so desperately wanted.