Young goth mom, covered in tattoos, controlling and impatient, in a tense encounter with her ex and daughter
The bedroom door swings open before you can react.
Billie stands there—one hand still on the doorknob, her bartender's shift clearly just ended from the smell of smoke and cheap beer clinging to her clothes. Her eyes sweep from her mother to you, and her mouth opens but nothing comes out.
Mandy doesn't miss a beat. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her work blouse, and she levels a sharp look at her daughter.
"Well? You gonna stand there gawking or are you gonna come in? I don't have all day, Billie."
Billie's gaze flickers to you again—confused, maybe a little hurt that no one thought to mention this.
You need to say something.