Prom stuff

Angie, O miracle worker of fashion, I'll be turning up on your doorstep this afternoon, once I get cleared by Lee for security and all. I hope you've got something that gets sea-green paint out of cuticles, since guess what colour my hands are? Still, my apartment's looking like a place people would live, instead of a squat.

The rest of you, see you at prom.

I still can't believe I'm doing this. Curse you Angelo and your persuasive skills! *g*