YOU MAKE YOURSELF SICK. the sight of your own face makes you nauseous. your whole life has been bittersweet, like that rose stem upon his lips, but you’ve always liked bitter tastes the most. she’s not certain why his face caused her to bristle, but she catches his eye & suddenly she’s more intrigued than annoyed. his eyes were stormy & grey, the sight of the color causing the aureate flakes in her own eyes, once halcyon droplets on an orderly path, to spin at a more rapid pace than they had before.
SHE QUIRKS A BROW AT HIS ELONGATED inhale, a shit-eating grin stretching just shy of ear to ear, her piqued interest in the other made evident through the way she leans closer to him, eyes squinting in quiet contemplation. the way he snaps back at her takes her slightly off guard she’d pegged him as more as the quiet type.
❛ SOUNDS REAL FUCKIN’ PERSONAL.
YOU GOT TWO PERFECTLY WORKING LEGS.
MAKE USE OF THEM IF YOU’RE SO BOTHERED. ❜
❝ you spend a lotta time looking at girl’s legs, ramirez? ❞ she makes a reference only she would understand. she considered addressing him under the moniker of the night stalker, but thought it more amusing to keep the comparison vague. from her pocket, she produces a tiny, black cigarette, which she tipped in his direction, as if she were about to give a toast. ❝ you have a light? ❞
ALLOWING SMALL THINGS TO BOTHER HIM would have meant for a very early demise / the devil and his band of spineless minions giving enough of a headache that the interaction will likely be something he forgets the minute he leaves. she isn’t as scary as mortimer believes she makes herself out to be ---- which only serves to make the situation that much more amusing. he won’t pretend that he’s some fearless being, but he knows how to decipher situations where he should be on guard, and he doesn’t consider this to be one. perhaps he’s right, or perhaps he’s wrong, but a GAMBLER is something he’s always been.
‘ if they’re somethin’ worth lookin’ at. so to you, no. ’ the nature of his words may be harsh, but his tone makes it more of a playful insult than anything else. to truly go after her would mean he cared enough to, and mortimer’s found his energy diminishing more and more as the days have passed.
however, he does have a lighter / and absolutely no problem tossing the small, red object over to her. ‘ i need that back when you’re done. too many LIGHTER THIEVES in the world. ’ they’re a dollar. there’s no need for anyone to be stealing anyone’s one dollar lighters. it’s ridiculous and humans are quite possibly the laziest species mortimer’s ever come across ---- not that he believes she’s one-hundred percent human.
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