Vera
There was something about Vienna Vazquez. She was an unshakeable force. And it showed in her demeanor. In the way she dresses, in the way she talks and even the way she walks and breathes. It was absurd. Vera watched cautiously as she curled her diamond-clad, perfectly manicured fingers around her mug and took a long sip, her blue eyes never leaving Vera's. It was unnerving. Vera felt like she was once again a small child being forced to learn manners and grace. She had none. She wasn't graceful. And manners weren't really her strong point. She swore like a pro when she was just ten or eleven. Vera still remembers when Vienna for the first time heard her say f**k. Her expression was scandalous.
