What's up, losers? Put aside your weekly mental breakdown for like two seconds and listen up because I've got a hella important message to make.
[ She takes a pause, like she's giving people an actual moment to stop what they're doing. This her attempt at being polite here. ]It's only two more sleeps until it's officially National Give Chloe Price a Present For Being Born Day. That's me. I'm Chloe Price. It's March 11th, for those who don't know how calendars work. Don't forget, I hold grudges for life.
And before I get the small talk "Aw, how old are you gonna be?" shit: 22, which is the awesome age of
not being a fucking child, so the next person who calls me "kid" better be old enough to actually be my parent or I'm punching you in the teeth.
[ She's fine. It's fine. This isn't a sore spot for her or anything.
She takes a breath. That's probably good for her to do. Except that as she does, it's easy to feel fucking exhausted. Practicing with her blood powers this month is not leaving her up for her usual angry outbursts. ]PSA over. Is there like a quick energy fix in this place? Red Bull? Monster? Fucking Starbucks Double Shots, I'll take anything at this point.