With a pipe in hand and the world on my tail..
Crick sat in her torn and baggy jeans, legs splayed out in an unlady like fashion. Relaxing on her couch, feet up on the coffee table. Well, this place wasn't exactly hers. She was staying here with one of her buddies. A male, who, in turn thought she was one too. She puffed a spoke between her soft feminine lips, running a hand threw her show silver hair..undertone of black within it. Her other hand balancing a pipe on the ground like a cane. Suddenly, she pushed herself up by the coffee table. Knocking it over without another thought.
...Gender ain't matter! Just a minor detail.
