"You surprise me, angelcake.” The masked man mused, a slight hum in melody with his statement. It was obvious he was completely amused at how quickly she agreed to doing whatever it was he could’ve asked of her. As a hand reaches up to remove his headgear, he turns his attention back to the petite female and stops dead in his tracks. “Didn’t think you had it in you to venture this far out. You’re past the gates, and wandering with a complete stranger.”
Crowe flashes her a forced smile once he revealed his identity, clearly still suffering an emotional imbalance after escaping the clutches of the Legion. He clasps the mask to his belt as irises scan the area around them, hand reaching up to mess with his hair a bit. “I won’t tell on you, angel. But I will ask that you keep this to yourself. Don’t go around babbling on my whereabouts.”
At the mere mention of her nickname, Leah seemed to freeze right in her spot. Her heart skipped a beat.
This was someone she knew.
Now, the only people who use that nickname are those considered close, so she had to start eliminating faces. Voices, in this matter. It wasn't Mick, nor was it Ralph. But this man had a Southern accent. She only knew one other person with an accent as thick as his. Removing the mask was enough to prove her suspicions and theories as true. She let out a long sigh of relief. Leah was hoping that it was him rather than anyone else.
Arms fold across her chest, the pads of her fingers gripping ever-so gently onto the leather of her jacket. "The fact you're telling me that is enough to prove that you don't trust me. I don't have a big mouth, Crowe, I just get a little bit irritated and tend to say things I don't mean." She shrugs, kicking the dirt beneath her.
"I'm not going to tell on you if you don't tell on me. I can do without another lecture or being confined to my bed, and you can do without your people on your ass."
