❝ lotsa’ practice. ❞
he’s never been shy about admitting his past. everyone else loved judging him for it, so why not own it? yeah, he grew up rough. in a concrete jungle of drugs and crime and poverty. mom loved the needle more than she could love him. that was fine. she was a sick woman and unfortunately, he couldn’t cure her. no one could.
he hopes it’s different for this girl, but if she’s looking to break in to someone’s car in the dead of night,his hopes aren’t likely to be enough. frowning a bit, he shuts the door of the car and holds out the wire to her.
❝ it’s not somethin’ you wanna be good at. ❞
yeah, it's a little different for her. a lot, actually. her parents loved her while she was there ----probably a little too much, but she didn't appreciate the way they showed it. they were too involved in her life, and while she may have taken their love and attention for granted, she can't go back now. her stubbornness won't allow for it.
she sighs, taking the wire and wiggling it into her jacket pocket, which is too thin for the weather they're having, but it keeps her dry and it braces against the wind. frankly, she's more bitter about the fact that he won't teach this VALUABLE life skill than she is about the cold.
❝ and why is that? ❞













