/me whispers a selfish prompt: -- Raywood in a nearly empty diner outside town at two in the morning, GTA & soul mate AU--
Ray’s got blood on his hoodie. Right where he can’t explain it away as a spill. He doesn’t really have time to go home either- he’s damn hungry and after things got so up close and personal he’s absolutely allowed to treat himself. Okay so maybe he would have treated himself anyways but the job is done and nothing anyone in the diner can say will get him to leave.
“You’re going to jail.”
Except maybe that. Cut a guy a break, he’s already had one knife fight he really doesn’t want another! Sighing to himself, Ray puts on a big grin to face the guy who’s standing over his table. If he’s a cop, he’s the weirdest fucking cop the sniper’s ever seen. There’s facepaint on him and a leather jacket that it should be much too fucking warm for.
Either way, he’s much more conflicted over the words themselves. If this guy’s a cop, he’s fucked. If he’s not, Ray’s still fucked. Those four words are on his arm. Right under where the blood stain is. It’s not the first time he’s heard it either- so he’s preparing himself for the same disappointment as always.
“Nah, they’ll save the room for someone who’s actually worth catching.” Ray answers, the same way he always does. He doesn’t expect anything to come out of it, but he still watches the new comer for any tells. Anything that might say he knows what it means because Ray figured out a while ago it’s what his words must be. The stranger just raises an eyebrow.
“I’m Ryan.” Says facepaint, and he sits down across from Ray. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”