I have no idea if I’ll continue this but meh.
She glares up at him, dark eyes flashing, and already he can hear the righteous thunder that’s pounding in her veins, a melody composed of neon orange skies and broken lullabies. She’s not frightened, oh no; she’s furious, and it’s a familiar rage, one that’s written in every scar painted on his own skin.
He yanks her up by the hair, the strands twisting and snarling through his fingers, too soft and delicate to be anything real in this world. She’s lived in her pristine little tomb filled with hopes and dreams and bullshit and lies, but this? Well sweetheart, this anger is real.
Cooper Howard would tell her to run away, as fast as her damn legs could carry her; the Ghoul simply grins down at her, his lips crooking up to the side in a familiar fashion, welcoming the challenge.
His little killer.