vigorminded:
the worst twenty - four hours of his life has etched dark circles and dug trenches ‘neath striking blue hues , pale skin glistening with nervous sweat clinging to his brow . long limbs scurry to put an arm’s length between himself and the broad shouldered GRUNT who’s responsible for his appearance's state of disarray , a sheepish grin drenched in barely contained panic stretching over pearly whites . ‘ listen , ‘ he starts , swallowing around the lump anxiety has shoved into his throat , ‘ i’m – - onto somethin’ here . somethin’ big . ‘ bruised fingers lift in a surrendering gesture , he needs this to work ( his kneecaps needs this to work ) . ‘ i messed up , i know i did , but i can fix it , i can . all – all i need is one more shot , yea ? i know i can get those caps back , kaz . with interest . ‘
❛ i've been in the game for years, doll. i know this narrative. please, kaz, i can win it back. don’t hurt me, kaz, i got family. ❜ from soldiers to civilians, she’s heard it all. excuses, all of them, either to bide time or to get the hell out of dodge. he strikes her a coward------ that if she lets him walk out of here legs in tact, he’d take them a’running. and zero collateral is bad for business. ❛ what’cha done to earn a second chance, huh? ya’ broke my trust. you’re a b - list liar. better sell it to me good, kiddo. ❜ arched brows and a tight smile are a silent tell for the thug to ease off; a false sense of security lingers at her fingertips. she waves him over ( like a mutt ). ❛ c’mere. sit, please. ya’ wanna talk business? we’ll talk business. what’s the big shebang? ❜