Her Father’s Heart
murder-popsicle:
Well. That wasn’t suspicious at all.
“I think I’ll pass,” she said, stretching her arms and cracking her neck as she spoke. Stay perfectly still? Like Hell was she complying with that request. “I’m workin’, y’know. If you don’t need my help, then I got places to be.”
“Working? On what?” Jet slipped out of her way, but remained close.
“I could help with this work.”











