Firebug. Why did they always call her a friggin firebug? Steaming with frustration at the very indignation of it all, Saisha crumpled the newspaper she had bought on a whim and tossed it aside. She admit, the headline was enticing and she had wondered if her message would be appreciated but being called a "vagrant firebug" turned her off so bad that she was immediately put off. Friggin lame.
Drawing her leather jacket closer around her body, she shivered. Inwardly cursing her morning's choice of wearing a strapless vinyl top beneath the layer of leather. While the jacket gave some warmth, it still didn't keep away the main bite of the chilly night's breeze as it clawed at her hair and sent tendrils of dark brown hair up into the air. She shuffled around awkwardly in her worn combat boots, creeping into the nearest building she could find that didn't look like it was overrun with stumbling drunks. The door shutting behind her, she turned her dark amber eyes to look about carefully while wiping her palms upon the thighs of her faded black jeans. Her pinky on her right hand sliding into a newly formed whole upon her upper thigh, jerking her hand back she flinched. Laughing at her hair thin nerves before shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Biting at her lip self-consciously, she meandered about to find herself a decent place to sit before she got herself a drink. In her agitation, she placed a fine canine through her lip and groaned as she taste blood settle upon her tongue before she swallowed it. Stupid tabby.