Ruthless

I'LL CONFESS NO INTEREST IN R I G H T A N D W R O N G

[misplaced-broadcast]

TUNING IN

A strained voice, softened by a dry throat and thickened by a swollen tongue is nearly indistinguishable from the soft crackling of static in the distance. A high level heist and they can’t even afford a good microphone… But that is always how it goes, isn’t it? The little guys get their stab at the big ones. After so many years of defeat, something in Dominic says hey… maybe they deserve some kind of pity win. “They want me to–” he gulps down the syrupy saliva that has begun to coat the inside of his cheeks, “They want me to read this bullshit– like we’re in a movie.” The laugh that follows is more of a croak, gravel grinding against his larynx. He coughs, but the itch is still there. “I’m supposed to read my fucking lines and they won’t even get me water?” “You know what? Fuck this. I’m not about to–” another series of coughs, tighter and rumbling in his chest. “I don’t wanna do this shit. Fuck all of you– fuck everybody who did this, fuck all you bastards I helped back then–” Panic overtakes his voice as a keen listener’s ear may pick up on a click! In the background, “–hell, fuck Leo, cause it’s probably his fucking fau–”

Boom.

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

trxshcns​:

“I see potential trouble.” Forrest said, looking to the window the other was watching, not finding what was so interesting there. “Lots of people, high stress situation- and you haven’t gone unnoticed. You’re not the most comforting of presences for everybody, Mr. Santoro.” He looked back up toward Dominic, eyes flicking across the other’s features quickly. 

“You’re going to hurt my feelings if you keep talking like that.” there is an odd sense of calm in their little corner of the room. "Potential trouble sounds like an understatement to me.” lips press tight together as he considers.

“I do hope your loyalty withstands pressure, Forrest.”

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

rcstlcss-nights​:

She’s separating donated items into boxes. Food, batteries, little kits of various means. It never seems to end. It’s mindless work, and Lila is happy for it. It all stops at the sound of his voice; an innocent question posed with a bite. 

“It’s soothing.” Defiance, maybe. But also a truth, one that would likely get twisted after her refusal of the invitation slid under her apartment door. “Most of the time.” Like… except right now.

his brows knit together, lips pursing out in an expression of consideration. his hands stay behind his back, one firm hand grasping the other’s wrist. he turns to her, chin up. “You think it’s relaxing, being stuck in here like this?” his expressions widens abruptly, brows lifting, mouth forming words before she can answer.

“I know everyone has their own methods of relaxation, but I can’t say being hulled up in a church is one of my favorites.”

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

scvlpcl​:

        to say it was odd to see the other out in the open like this, would be somewhat of an understatement. even still, zeke felt slightly at ease, knowing his close friend was nearby. however, he knew better than to show he was friendly with the other, so he hesitated before he responded, opting to get the bagged meal ready for the other male before he spoke. “i guess it depends. i much prefer snow, i like the blank canvas it leaves behind. rain just seems to make a mess of everything.” he replied as he looked up at the other. “would you like anything else? i brought some snacks, but that’s in my private stash.”

“Blank canvas...” he repeats softly. a nod signals dominic’s acceptance of the sentiment, though he doesn’t linger on the idea that begins to form in the back of his mind: what could zeke want with a blank canvas? he’ll think about that when the rain isn’t keeping the fog in his brain so thick.

in the meantime, he turns to fully face his friend? and offers a tight lipped smile. “Are you looking to get away from me this quickly?”

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

trxshcns​:

“I don’t actually mind the rain. Being stuffed in a church with half of the community, on the other hand, is not exactly my idea of fun.” Forrest said, offering a quirk of a smile to the other man, shifting to settle hands into pockets, “So much trouble, all these people in one place.” 

lips press together. the presence is hardly acknowledged, dominic’s eyes instead following a few water droplets ‘racing’ to the bottom of the sky blue panel of glass in front of him. the silence lingers a moment too long.

“You see trouble?”

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

nataliasantoro​:

Hearing his voice almost made her jump. She had been so focused on getting back to the kitchen that she hadn’t even noticed the figure standing nearby. Not having seen him since responding to his note, there was no way of knowing how this conversation was about to go down. “I dunno, it used to always calm me when I was a child. The sound of it hitting the glass…”

“When I was a kid, I always hated thunder storms. You can desensitize yourself to so much, but there’s something about the way the sky just... lights up and you can count down the moments before you hear the boom. I’ll admit, it scared me then.” his shoulders rise and fall, noncommittal to the sentiment.

“--Did I scare you?”

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

dilanaslcn​:

“I think it’s quite peaceful.” The brunette says as she looked out the window and back at the male. “I guess it all depends on why you hate the rain.” Cold, wet, mucky — countless of reasons but she enjoyed the ugliness and coldness that it brought forth. Even better whilst in a bubble bath with a glass of wine. Though this, this was even more pleasant; destruction. @rcthlcssbcstcrd​

hands pull out from pockets and rub themselves together, friction offering a little warmth in the air just a bit too cold for his comfort. he turns on a heel, attention fully trained on his subject.

 “---and why do you think I hate the rain?”

[rcthlcssbcstcrd]

open @misplaced-misc​ ; location: wherever your character is

“I hate the rain, don’t you?” his eyes are locked firmly on raindrops rolling down stained glass, hands pushed deep into his pants pockets. the jacket covering his shoulders doesn’t do much to keep out the chill, nor does the ambience of gentle tapping keep out the subtle bite to his voice: an opportunity, not a question.