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Namira
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Null sheen.
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Hearing the nickname was enough to make Vincenza crack a smile. Cameron was one of very few who actually turned the whole nickname thing back around on her; most of the time folks just seemed to accept it as one of the weird and wonderful things that she did. Enza reckoned that more people should try it. Much more fun than just using all the same labels as everyone else.

"Like a dagger to my heart," Enza gasped melodramatically, gazing at the coffee cup like it was the most tragic thing that she'd ever seen in her life. She did, of course, have that flair for theatrics. If she didn't have such a full extra-cirricular dancecard, then Vinny would have seriously considered adding drama to the list. But nah. Spreading herself too thin would just mean not getting enough done on any one thing, like scraping too little butter across too much bread.

"Me?" Vincenza let out a long sigh. "Been better. People are being shitty mcshits. They are in fact being so shitty, it is as if they are having a competition to see who can shit up the bowl the most," she looked down at her hands, taking a second to just rattle her fingernails on the table. "It's just the usual, you know? Stupid bullshit from stupid people who can't take two seconds to get it in their heads that not everything is this or that or..." Vinny forced herself to breathe, knowing that she was getting worked up and developing into a full on rant. "I'm just tired of it. Sorry that I don't fit in your fucking boxes, I guess."
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