Jessica hated the busy streets of New York. Especially since they never seemed to be – well – NOT busy. It made it difficult to do… stuff. Period, actually. From just getting home too committing acts that the LAW considered were, well, illegal.
Which, put a damper on her mood on any given day – or night, as it was right now. Add on the fact that yeah – maybe – she was low on money because she didn’t have any cases, she wasn’t the best of people right now.
( Not that she was the best of people, but she liked to think it. )
She huffs, staring at the measly single bottle of the cheapest whiskey the corner store had. It was better than NOTHING, she supposed.
As she glances down, she doesn’t pay attention to where she’s going – why should she? – and looks up only when someone bumps into her.
She staggers off balance from the run in, bottle slipping from her grasp. She tries to catch it – failing as she tries to catch herself from looking like a complete dumb-ass on the concrete.
She fails at that too, by the way.
She grunts, gritting her teeth. She’s less angry about the split, broken bottle than she if over the fact that this ASSHOLE can’t watch where they’re going.
She picks herself up quickly, winching slightly as she cuts her palm on the glass, whirling around to grab the person’s jacket, shove them against the wall, do SOMETHING to give them a piece of her mind.
Her fingers stop short, and okay, she might classified as INSANE ( according to some ) but she’s not this insane. Nope. She REFUSES to accept this. She’s not – this insane.
( Unless she is now. Because then she’s in some deep shit. )
“Right – okay. This the part where you start telling me all this ‘you could be better’ or ‘you know what you do is wrong’ or ‘think of the lives you’re destroying’ bullshit – right? Because let’s save you the effort, we BOTH know I’m not going to listen. So, uh – go away?”
Nice going, Jones. She’s on fire today!
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