It was just one of those things that you couldn't deny. No matter how many sold out shows or compliments on his afros, Lionel Ritchie just wasn't as cool as he seemd to think he was. Not to be mean or anything, but it was the truth and Francis-Bean couldn't understand why she was sitting home watching one of his 'Great Performances' on PBS, it made no sense. Maybe she had to be one of those hardcore fans to understand, but she wans't and there was really nothing she could do about it. If she didn't want to stay home all night, she would have to go out and do something spectacular. Lucky for her, that's exactly what she was planning to do. This rutt that she seemed to have been in wasn't about to get the best of her. She would rid herself of it if it was the last thing she would do, and if it was, that would be awesome.Since she was going to die, tonight of all nights, the least she could do was look good going out. Franny stripped off her clothes as she made her way into the bathroom, turning the shower on and hopping in.
After a few minutes of belting out Cheap Trick songs at the top of her lungs, Francis-Bean emerged, feeling renewed. A good shower can do that to you, you know. She got dressed and did her hair, feeling very pleased with the final product. She really wasn't one to be obsessed with looks, but she had to admit that tonight was just one of those nights. Grabbing her keys, she skipped out of the house and over to her car, getting in and starting up the engine. There was still an unanswered question that seemed to be very important now that she really thought about it; where was she going? It's not that she ever had a set location, but she would need to narrow it down a bit if she wanted to have as much fun as possible. Francis rounded a corner, pulling up in front of the first club she could find. It was amazing how she managed to find a parking space right in front of the establishment, that usually never happened, maybe it was a sign?
Francis walked into the club, the loud music and the heat from the lights hitting her immediately. There was nothing like musk and heavy metal to make a girl feel special. She moved over to the bar, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear as she sat down on a bar tool, moving so that she was facing the dance. Francis-Bean rested her elbows on the edge of the counter, holding herself up as her eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to see a familiar face among the strangers. She glanced over shoulder, quickly ordering a drink as the bartender walked past, secretly hoping that he didn't ask for I.D. It wouldn't be the worst thing if she couldn't have anything to drink, but that was really the only reason why she went out. Drink, fuck, and fight. If she couldn't do one, she'd have to do the other. She smiled as the bartender slid her drink across the bar, glad that she wouldn't have to go whoring and cursing like an animal. Well, she really couldn't make any promises, there's no telling what she could get up to under the influence.