Author: Kat
Title: Birds of Prey
Story: Shine Like It Does
Colors: Sphene 12 (Cleavage), admin yellow 30 (Point that thing at me again and I'll shoot you with it.), azul 20 (Zest) with shipwreck_light's paint-by-numbers (Miranda and her lawyer buddy you were talking about.)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Lilith Fair Village Stage: Birds of Prey, Christina Aguilera), graffiti (TV Tropes challenge: House Rules and Super Strength), novelty beads ("Think of me as your worst nightmare, in pink!"), oils (missed the train), stain (Why shouldn't things be largely absurd, futile, and transitory? They are so, and we are so, and they and we go very well together. - George Santayana)
Word Count: 485
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Emily and Miranda's night on the town doesn't go as they planned.
Warnings: sexism, racism, both brief and background
Notes: Emily has changed names five or six times, if you don't recognize her. She also wears some truly epic heels.



"I swear to God," Miranda said, "one day I'm going to just Hulk out and destroy one of these bars."

Emily snorted. "I could not blame you if you did. Although I admit I'm surprised you know about the Hulk."

Miranda laughed, a little dryly, and turned her back to the bar, leaning her elbows on it. It arched her back and pushed her breasts forward, and she knew it, but it also cracked her spine and that was more important at the moment. "I'm alive in a post-Avengers world, Em. I know about the Hulk."

"Also," Emily pointed out, "we're friends."

"That too."

Emily was tiny, pretty, an enormous nerd, and the most shark-like prosecuting attorney that Miranda had ever met. Emily was also, at the moment, about ten times prettier than she was, in a hot-pink sheath and heels bigger than some men's dicks. Miranda was very fond of her.

"For the record," Emily commented, around her pina colada, "I said this club was a bad idea."

She had, too. Miranda felt a little less fond of Emily in that moment. "They have good music." The DJ, of course, immediately proved her incorrect by putting on Blurred Lines. Miranda pushed away from the bar and said, "All right, that's it, you win, let's leave."

Emily laughed. "Let me finish my drink."

"If you do," Miranda said, "some drunk asshole is going to come up and start telling you all about how much he likes Asian women because they're submissive."

"And I will put my stiletto through his foot," Emily said, calmly.

Miranda shrugged. That seemed fair. "I'll bail you out. And defend you, if need be."

Emily snorted, unfortunately into her drink, and sent milky-yellow liquid splashing over the bar. "You will do no such thing," she said. "I've seen you in court."

"Thanks ever so," Miranda said dryly, but it was true, she was awful in court. Something about intimidating juries. She was much better one on one with clients or judges. "Fine, I'll let you defend yourself. But I will be a character witness."

"That I'll allow." Emily tossed the last few drops of her pina colada down her throat, then set the glass down, wiped a hand across her mouth, and said, "So what shall we do now?"

--

When Jack got home at two AM, the last thing he was expecting was a couple of drunk women screaming in his living room.

And yet there they were, his sister and her best friend, Miranda in a sleek black cap-sleeve dress, Emily in hot pink and terrifying heels. He could tell they were drunk because they were both swearing like sailors, and they were swearing because they were playing Mario Kart. On his Wii.

Again.

He sighed, and shambled off toward his bedroom, shedding his clothes as he went.

If the landlord complained again, he'd just send him to his sister.