First Impressions

The smoke spiralled upwards until she could see it no more. The wispy grey strands simply blended with the dark night sky, dotted with hardly any stars. The city was still wide awake.

She peeked over the rail. The penthouse suite stood a formidable height from the entrance to the Plaza hotel. She could hardly see anything on the streets below, but she could hear the incessant roar of engines, hasty cab drivers, and sirens.
Typical, she sighed.

She took some time to open the new pack of cigarettes. And it was not the three glasses of scotch she had drained earlier, that slowed her down. Her life was running way faster than she had expected. She needed to waste as much time as possible.

As a new model in the city, Sophie was doing fairly well. She got invited to all the glamorous parties, even if she didn't particularly enjoy herself. The job demanded it. Atleast she was not vying for attention by scandalously rubbing herself against older rich men. Even if the job demanded it. She used her mind where her body did not tread.

The sound of cheers and rants and loud music suddenly overpowered the introspection, for a second. And then the jubilant noise was silenced by a plexiglass slider door.


Greg: Hey there.. Is this... Roof taken?

Sophie: Nope. And that sentence makes no sense.

Greg: I guess. Do I get a another chance?

Sophie: Can you blow smoke rings?

Greg: I can...

Sophie: Alright, I believe you.

Greg: Don't you want to see them?

Sophie: Not particularly... No.

Greg: It's a bit unfortunate because I was really counting on that window of opportunity.

Sophie: It's a particularly small window.

Greg: You use the word 'particularly' a bit too much.

Sophie: Have you been counting?

Greg: Yes, twice so far.

Sophie: Well, isn't that particularly annoying...

Greg: Thrice.

Sophie: You can stop now...
So what do you do, apart from desperately trying to look cool at a party you managed to sneak into?

Greg: INVITED to. And I'm an independant agent.

Sophie: Ah, yes of course. You bait innocent young women by luring them with pictures of famous models and give them a false hope of making it big in a city full of masked identities.

Greg: Innocent? Please! I beg to differ. None of you are 'innocent'. As a collective, you could rob a bank if you wanted to.

Sophie: Well, I daresay that would go as perfectly as planned.

Greg: You're the one to talk. I see you standing out here alone, while the party of the year is changing people's lives inside. Are you trying to prove you are different from the rest?

Sophie: No. I am different.

Greg: I see a recluse. A woman who made it as a model, but doesn't like the lifestyle. You're in the wrong place at the wrong time. You feel the others are imperfect and that you're better than them. Well, you should prove it in the real world, with a real job. And then you'll know how difficult it is. I daresay it'll be easier for you because you could just sail away on your good looks.

Sophie: Well... I hate my job, but not as much as I hate having to work hard. And my solidarity is just a demonstration of my indifference. I don't particularly care about proving my worth or making sure I'm better than the rest. I honestly couldn't care. But as long as I keep doing what I do, I shouldn't really have a problem. And neither should you.

Greg: Well, I'm naturally inquisitive, right up to the point where I become annoying, until I crack, or the other person does.

Sophie: Well... That is just so... Smooth!

Greg: So what now?

Sophie: Well, there is only one cliche we need to get past. Is it going to be your place or mine?...

Greg: But honey, I'm gay!

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