Jen Scenario Quotes

For Villanelle, language is fluid. Most of the time she thinks in French, but every so often she awakes and knows that she’s been dreaming in Russian. At times, close to sleep, the blood roars in her ears, an unstoppable tide shot through with polyglot screams. On such occasions, alone in the Paris apartment, she anaesthetises herself with hours of web-surfing, usually in English. And now, she notes, she is mentally playing out scenarios in Sicilian-inflected Italian. She hasn’t sought out the language, but her head echoes with it. Is there any part of her that is still Oxana Vorontsova? Does she still exist, that little girl who lay night after night in urine-sodden sheets at the orphanage, planning her revenge? Or was there only ever Villanelle, evolution’s chosen instrument?

Oh, was your grandfather upset! But I rationalized with him. I said, ‘Daddy, marriage is the only possible scenario where you don’t end up paying my rent.’ I mean, can you imagine me living somewhere on a gallerist’s wages? I was quite persuasive.

The thing about decisions that are bad or inherently harmful—no one sets off to become addicted, to go all worst-case scenario. But that’s how I found myself using the third tier of the site.

I think what you need to understand, Miss Plum, is that Mr. Haverstein is one of those rare gentlemen, a throwback, if you will, to the days of knights in shining armor. One only has to look at that staff of his, or take a trip to one of his many barns filled to the brim with the oddest assortment of animals I’ve ever seen, to know he possesses a strong sense of chivalry and honor. You, my dear, can’t blame him for offering to marry you, especially not after you presented him with a classic damsel-in-distress scenario.” With

And seriously, when did I become the omelet chef in this scenario? I’m not sure I even want to be captain, dammit. Responsibility makes the back of my neck itch. I’d much rather be one of the happy, oblivious sheep than the stressed-out shepherd who has to guide them.

I probably should have restrained myself. Graham had been perfectly normal all morning, but after an evening of dreaming up revenge scenarios, I couldn’t help myself when presented with such an easy opportunity. Besides, he had told me to get inventive. The “sandwich” I made Graham had six different types of meat including one mystery one, plus peanut butter, plus marshmallow spread, plus mayonnaise, hot sauce, and raisins. Graham