@redheid: no, i'm not hitting on you. unless it's working.
cold handles fumble drunkenly with cigarette * she giggles a little, focusing a mite too hard on his words as she attempts to decode them through his heavy accent. the alley they’re in smells like day old piss & rain water. she swears she’d pay more heed to the no smoking sign if it didn’t feel like a favor letting the smell cover the current stench — or if the sign was legible at all beneath graffiti & grime. “ COULD BE, if you commit to it, ” but she’s hardly paying attention to it. near - empty lighter is handed off to him. “ make this work, i can’t get the shit to light. ”