"don't quit on me now," lucas is goading, but he means it. could almost say he likes ethan. well, likes how he's stayed alive longer than any of the others, that is. lucas is stuck in a maze so dull he's started looking to the rats for entertainment -- or maybe it's just that mia's precious boytoy is proving himself a particularly durable little rodent. "you still alive, pretty boy?"
@moldcursed: [ sender spits out a mouthful of blood on reciever ]
ethan's got shitty aim, but lucas is crouched low to check his vitals, low enough that some of the blood manages to make it onto his sneakers and the hem of his jeans. he laughs, shrill and manic. can't help it.
"shee-yit, ethan, ain't they got manners where you come from?" and where does this one come from? he's got this air about him, like a well-bred poodle to contrast with mia's sad little shelter dog. looks like he only eats soft food, while mia isn't afraid to bite. (lucas has the marks to prove it). east coast man, probably. or maybe west -- east coast wouldn't've made it this far, lucas supposes; dumb hippies wouldn't know a gun if you shoved one up their ass and pulled the trigger.
lucas lets out a sigh, all drama. "'s what i get for being nice, seeing how you're doing." digging the toe of his shoe into ethan's ribs, hard, like he's preparing for a kick. hopes he finds a bruise. falsely bright: "naptime's over, bitch boy. now get the fuck up."














