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Ah sweet caffeine. Was there anything better? L.A. didn't think so as she sipped on her double shot iced cappuccino mocha. The future gem of the horror scene set her coffee down and picked up her cigarette, as black as half the lipstick on her lips. As usual she wore her make up bi-colored; red eye shadow and black lipstick on one side; then red lipstick and black eyeshadow on the other side. Always made for fun when people would see her from one side then from another, they were so cute when they were confused. She was also dressed in her usual outfit. Something to show off the curves of her body but still prove she was a good gothic chick.

Spread about her on the table she had taken over were many shots of dark streets, night time parks, and unlit houses. Several journals also lay about open, scribbles here and there; different scenes with different characters. It was here she came up with her best ideas; with the mix of caffeine and nicotine she always had the energy to keep going. Slowly she blew the smoke from her lips as she glanced over her work so far, wondering what her first big break would be.

A brush of cold across her bare shoulders signaled the opening of the door, as well as the rush of wind that decided to play havoc with her photos. Several fluttered the the floor, L.A. was only thankful all her writings were in bound journals. But now she had to put all the scenes back in the right order that she was writing.

"Damn it!"

She sighed, exhaling more of the aeromic smoke, before placing it between her lips and getting out of her seat to grab up her photos. She had worked hard to get these, mostly violating trespassing laws and sneaking into closed parks and graveyards. Ah well, at least she got the shots she wanted.

It was then she noticed the girl who had entered shop. Rings of her native land decorated her neck, making it look long and sleek. That was nice. Her skin looked like chocolate, "heh I wonder if it tastes at good," she thought to herself. Dreadlocks danced around her face, L.A. had always liked them on black women. It make them look more sensual in her opinion. Ice blue eyes glanced over what she could see of the woman's figure, mostly the tight pants. Finally she stood up with her photos, gave the girl a wink with her red eye-shadowed eye, then took her seat at the table again.

L.A. had already gotten her pictures back in order, in fact the scattering having given her an excellent idea for a better scene. Her focus had gone back to her movie when the lovely woman once again entered her eye sight. It seemed she felt bad for scattering the pictures. It was merely an accident, the next person to walk in would do the same thing. But it seemed an excellent way to get a free drink.

"Ah that would be lovely, but you need not feel bad. It actually helped me rework a scene to have a much better flow. So I think I should perhaps by you a drink in thanks," she smiled with the red lipstick side of her mouth. The girl's accent was quite lovely. Exotic and sensual in her opinion. But why did this girl look so.....familiar?

"My name is Lenore Annabelle, but everyone calls me L.A. So nice to meet a lovely face even on a cold day," she grinned a bit before writing something down in a notebook. It took her a few minutes, the concentration spreading across her face as the words came to her. The action was written, the lines were assigned, now all she needed was a good description of the background and the scene would be complete.

She continued to look at the girl once she was done writing, her face still bugging her. She had seen this girl before. Her mind ran over her features. A lovely body, African jewelry, and that lovely accent....wait...that's when it hit her.

"Now I know where I've seen you before," she smiled, "We work for the same company. Walk of Fame."

L.A. kept watching the woman, loving the way she spoke with such an exotic accent. Even her name was quite lovely; Lela, how sensual. She shook the singer's hand, her own being soft but powerful. Then Lela spoke of an image change. Dark huh? Oh L.A. could just see it in her head as she looked the woman up and down again. It would be damn sexy.

"Ah yes, an image change. Such things are normal for singers I suppose. Many I've seen do so every now and then. Dark huh? That much I do know. I suppose I should explain myself seeing as we work for the same company," she stopped to take a few puffs on her cig before talking again.

"I'm a director, horror to be exact. Hence all the pictures," she motioned to all the creepy dark places, " which will hopefully be sets for my upcoming film. Might I ask what your thoughts on your image change are?"

She had to giggle a bit about the dancing part, "And don't worry about dancing. Most singer's can't dance, they learn a routine just like they learn a song and repeat it. On the dance floor they are like a ballerina wearing scuba flippers."

"Ah yes, Fear is a neutralizing emotion. No matter who you are, where you are from, how much money you make; fear makes us all equal. It starts from when we are young and afraid of the monster under the bed or in the closet. Even now, as adults, if we see a closet open in the dark we secretly wonder if anything is it in," L.A. couldn't help but speak of her adoration of fear. It had been her passion for nearly 8 years, inspiring her in ways no other emotion ever hand.

L.A. had to blink a minute when the woman spoke of her cigarette, it was rare people even knew what she was smoking. It fascinated her that this woman came from an island that exported the major ingredient.

"Ah yes, if it bothers you I can put it out. An unfortunately habit picked up from my father," she smiled friendly enough even though the images of her father danced through her head. He would be sitting at his easel, staring at a blank canvas as smoke billowed around his face until he would pick up his brush and paint furiously for hours. L.A. use to liken it to the Oracle of Delphi who sat on a stool above earthly vapors and predicted the future.

L.A. slowly puffed on her cig as the lovely woman talked of what her superiors wanted to do. Her ice blue eyes kept scanningthe woman's body as she spoke of this style and that. Frankly, in her opinion at least, the woman could pull off the look. But if you can't talk the talk while you walk the walk it does no good. Lela would need the attitude to pull off that look. But her mind was already swirling at the ideas of what the girl could do.

"Well, I have a few ideas but I'm not on the committee as it were. But I do suggest you not go completely dark. I would touch your roots for your darkness. Something that is part of you and no so foreign an idea," she blew a smoke ring. The woman was definitely African so why not play it up?

"Also you could still do charities but perhaps take ones more close to your own country. Perhaps diseases that exist instead of poverty which, quite frankly, exists everywhere. Be more specific, really go after something like you want eradicate it from the face of the world," she pointed her finger at the girl's chest and heart. That was what she needed. She needed a passion. So far the girl looked rather lost and only doing what her superiors told her. For a time that was fine, hell L.A. had to do that right now due to her lack of status. But Lela had pull, she needed to start making her own decisions.