Eleanor frowned as she walked down the street, her hands stuffed in her pockets. This smelled wrong. Actually it smelled pretty amazing, but the place just felt wrong to her. She'd seen too many sides of The Bad Place... at least the ones she remembered... not to think that this was still some sort of trick. How could she trust anything here? It was all too weird.
Stopping, she sighed and wrapped her arms around her waist. She'd ditched the fake glasses but was still far to smartly dressed for her taste. Why the hell did Bad Place fashion have to be so... dated? Rolling her eyes in disgust, she finally turned to the nearest passerby "Hey are there any stores around here that sell clothes that don't look like kitschy tourist shit?"
II.
Eleanor waved her hands in front of her, taking a step back. There was too much and then there was too much and this was akin to asking her to marry Jason and move to Jacksonville to start a jazz club too much.
"Uh-uh. Magic? I don't think so. I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not some weird blue haired kid in a video game or whatever. Don't you have some twelve year old dweeb to ask to save the world? Amiright?" With the last word she elbowed the person next to her with a conspiratorial smirk just screaming for support in this.
IV.
It was late and Eleanor was currently yelling at the host outside the Red Wagon Restaurant. He was clearly refusing her entrance due to her atire - jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.
"C'mon, man! Who the fuck cares how I'm dressed? Just stick me in the kitchen, I don't care. Or better yet, why don't you just sneak a couple bottles of wine out the back for me?"
The host shook his head and she groaned, throwing her hands up, "What does a chick have to do to get a drink in this place?!"
Eleanor Shellstrop | The Good Place
Eleanor frowned as she walked down the street, her hands stuffed in her pockets. This smelled wrong. Actually it smelled pretty amazing, but the place just felt wrong to her. She'd seen too many sides of The Bad Place... at least the ones she remembered... not to think that this was still some sort of trick. How could she trust anything here? It was all too weird.
Stopping, she sighed and wrapped her arms around her waist. She'd ditched the fake glasses but was still far to smartly dressed for her taste. Why the hell did Bad Place fashion have to be so... dated? Rolling her eyes in disgust, she finally turned to the nearest passerby "Hey are there any stores around here that sell clothes that don't look like kitschy tourist shit?"
II.
Eleanor waved her hands in front of her, taking a step back. There was too much and then there was too much and this was akin to asking her to marry Jason and move to Jacksonville to start a jazz club too much.
"Uh-uh. Magic? I don't think so. I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not some weird blue haired kid in a video game or whatever. Don't you have some twelve year old dweeb to ask to save the world? Amiright?" With the last word she elbowed the person next to her with a conspiratorial smirk just screaming for support in this.
IV.
It was late and Eleanor was currently yelling at the host outside the Red Wagon Restaurant. He was clearly refusing her entrance due to her atire - jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.
"C'mon, man! Who the fuck cares how I'm dressed? Just stick me in the kitchen, I don't care. Or better yet, why don't you just sneak a couple bottles of wine out the back for me?"
The host shook his head and she groaned, throwing her hands up, "What does a chick have to do to get a drink in this place?!"