"Yeah, like I'm gonna do a big impression the way I am right now. You know, Big Un, it's never about what you are. It's what people want you to be."
For an instant, an image of her gruesome matrix persona appears in front of her regular icon, reminding him of that particular part of her view of the world. The mask smiles a wry smile, the robotic head behind it motionless.
"They want me to work, honey. Not to be myself. I'm coming, you can already go and make yourself comfortable. No need to taint your image as well... Krestov."
Her voice turns ever so slightly strange as she utters his name, then she cuts the connection.
Looks into the mirror.
And decides to wash away Bianca.
As promised, she cuts the silvery patch in her hands in two. One she puts on her neck, then carefully covers it with one green spike of hair. The other half she puts again into her boot. From a small bag stuffed into the concealable holster, bnc retreives a bit of yellow powder. She shapes the small crystals into a short, thin line, then snuffs it in. A moment she considers to sit down to enjoy the bizarre mixtures of the calming effects of Whoom and the agitating effects of bananadust, but then decides against it. She can't allow herself to relax and give in to the substances. She's in charge. This she can control. It's a petty trick. Just an illusion of control. Luckily, it works anyway.
Slowly beginning to feel calm again, regaining control over herself, her body, her mood, she straightens up. Let's see what he's more attracted to, wizzie slitch, wits or tits.
After quickly storing away the drugs, washing her face and talking a gulp of water, she slams open the door and heads up to the rest of the party...