When the parents finally dragged their worn-out asses home to give their 
children Quality Time, Miranda would run to her subterranean quarters and get 
into the cheapest, trashiest ractive she could find. She wasn't going to make 
the mistake of spending all her money being in fancy ractives. She wanted to be 
a payee, not a payer, and you
could practice your racting just as well in a dead shoot-'em-up as a live 
Shakespeare.