Quinn Fabray; ultimate daddy’s girl, perfect in *every way*. Or, at least that’s how it used to be. How *she* used to be. To put it simply, no one in Lima, Ohio was expecting her to get knocked up, have the baby, then turn into this completely unrecognisable skank. Pink hair and everything.

But, it was real. It was happening. It truly was Quinn, short dyed pink hair, bracelets clattered around both wrists, dark eyeliner underneath her eyes and a nose hoop piercing.

She sat in the corner of a party. The only reason she’s here is because college people took one glance at her and assumed she was of age. It was disappointingly easy to get in there.

A rolled joint held between her fingers, she brings it to her lips, the smoke fogging up the sunglasses she wore. Music was blaring and everyone was either high or drunk out of their minds, some people having snuck away to get some.

Someone catches her eye, though. She squints them. Stood in the middle of the room; so many people there, but it feels her attention’s only drawn to one person there.

“Hey.” Quinn calls out over the music, and she’s lucky to be heard, head snapping back to look over their shoulder. She grins, running her tongue along her top row of teeth. She nudges her head, as if to urge them closer.