Mark could silently PRAY that Amanda wasn’t going to get up to any of her antics, mainly with that venomous tongue of hers, but he doubted that he would have any stroke of luck with that. He was parked out in front of the bar, eyes narrowing to see if he could spot her through the darkness and into the foggy bar windows but he didn’t have any luck. Hopefully she wasn’t passed out over the counter of the bar because he really wasn’t looking to go in there and carry her drunk ass out to the car. He didn’t even want to be here at all but something inside of him had agreed to pick the woman up.
The officer reached over to unlock the car doors, not exactly trusting this side of town. He had arrested plenty of criminals in this area before and some of them had tried ripping civilians right out of their cars and taking them for a ride. Some of them had a rude awakening, too, when they tried getting into the wrong cars. Sometimes it was hard walking into certain places when all you could think about is the scum that inhabited these parts and the dirty arrests that he had made. He took a breath, looking towards the window as she propped herself against it.
❝I hear some uber drivers don’t even charge for money anymore, hence the handcuffs.❞ What was that? Some kind of humor? ❝Just get in there car already, Amanda. I’ll get you home.❞ Mostly he was just anxious for her to get in already so he could drop her off wherever she needed to go and he could get on with his night. That didn’t entail much if he was being honest with himself. He could tie up a few loose ends for John if he needed, too, or he could just go home and try to sleep, even if it was a lucky four hours.
❛ Are you THAT disgusted by this place, Mark? ❜
ISN’T IT UNEASY BEING AROUND YOUR DEMONS? Doesn’t it make the stomach TURN to be around the things that once took so much from you? Money, life, the ability to feel - all of it STOLEN by a small sample of spirits. Once an addict, ALWAYS an addict. Even if he fights the urge to go inside, she can feel that anxious energy radiating off fellow reaper. The only difference between them is her ability to CAVE IN to those cravings. Upon hearing the way he dismisses her delight, a frown quickly takes the place of once pleased expression. She reluctantly opens the door, plops to his side, and rests a foot upon the dashboard. She can’t tell if she’s too faded to care about how she’s coming off or if she’s naturally DEFIANT towards those doing her a service. Regardless, this is her RESISTANCE, but she silently thanks her newfound savior for coming when no one else could.
❛ . . . You’re not going to tell John, ARE YOU? ❜
But something tells her he already knows, regardless of whether or not they speak of her sin. She can feel the impending DISAPPOINTMENT; she can see the way his eyes barely acknowledge her existence. . . She imagines those minor motions that send a wave of woe across her world ( WHICH HE HELPED TO BUILD ) and she senses the silence that comes with his decision to let her suffer ALONE. They BREAK BODIES for a living; they pray through the act of pain. . . How could she not be TIRED from all the torment? How could she not want to distance herself from the damnation? Especially when she was selected to be the PRODIGY; especially when she knows the games require a new kind of GORE. Does HE, the man beside her, even understand? Or is he still so caught up in his own dream that the price to pay doesn’t matter?