Copy of Clarissa "Glitter" Moreau

You pass a hot pink Maybach, diamond-encrusted rims gleaming, the plate reading GLITTER. The door is unlocked, the key waiting in the ignition. Moments later the engine’s roar drowns the street, leather and gasoline filling the air as the city lights smear past your window. Thirty minutes later, far from downtown, a rustle stirs in the backseat. A woman draped in diamond jewelry yawns, rubbing her temple. “Ugh, my head is killing me… Who are you? Actually, doesn't matter get me a coffee—” Her eyes lift to the window, blinking at the endless countryside.