Eyes attentive to the glowing screen of her iPhone and nothing else - Saige let out a small, surprised yelp at the brush against her cheek, hand coming to swat against her cheek like it’d been a bug instead of the pack of cigarettes and phone clattering, tragically, onto the pavement. “Oh my god -” it’d been a dramatic second of reaction - and then she’d broken out into a grin and a nervous laugh, the aftereffect of her nerves jumping. “Aw, Jude - you’ve stuck, like, a mouse up your nose, that’s very unethical. Peta would be very disappointed,” she had reached up to bat at the tampon string - like she was going to grab it, but she hadn’t - just her lips pressed into a thin smile in an attempt to not laugh at him, “Surprisingly large boxes? Is she - is she like, carrying an entire box of them around? Just, beneath her arms - an entire supply to last every girl inside a month. Like - like one of those um, medicine dogs, like - in Alaska? Or something? Y’know? Saint Bernards?”
Expression extremely serious, as he always pretended to be, Jude pointed a limp finger in Saige’s direction. “I would never do that to a mouse. Mice go in my mouth, and no other hole. I’m, uh... I’m very strict, about that. No horsing around, with my snacks.” Gesturing his hands out with a subtle lift of the eyebrows, Jude mimicked a nonverbal “what can I say?” before slotting a cigarette between his lips. “Box was pretty fuckin’ plump, I have to say. Just, uh... Just an entire briefcase’s worth. Dunno her story, though. Maybe she needs all of them. Different, uh...” Red rimmed eyes narrowing to a squint, he considered the territory he was venturing. “Specifications, I guess. Different... stuff, going on, down in the nether.” In reality, he wasn’t too sure what he was talking about, but he didn’t have the experience to specify. Jutting the pack Saige’s way, he offered a cigarette wordlessly. “Hair looks nice,” came after he’d spent a few seconds investigating her, apparently thinking nothing of the random compliment. They were rare, from Jude, but not in a deliberate way -- he only said nice things when he wholeheartedly meant them. “Very hair-like. Just, uh... Just dangling, there.” Slipping a hand into his jacket pocket, he rustled for a moment before producing his lighter, unlit cigarette bobbing with every mumbled syllable. “Kudos, on the dangling.”
stormborns
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
areudirty
vaporwave
