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sokol-the-grinder replied to your photoset:

It was meant to be that way, actually!

[jimmy voice] That’s bloody splendid.

#sokol-the-grinder #//𝙊𝙊𝘾 #((i'm impressed actually #like legit impressed #a nice touch since they brought in such a fine actor))

♣

Send me ♣ for a drunk textSMS: GUESS HWO? SMS: Its meSMS: bet your wondreing how I got yournumber. SMS: I always get the didgets man : ))))

#sokol-the-grinder

♣

[NEW MESSAGE: Falcon]SMS: Im’ tire of thi cold!!SMS: all this alchold in my sysemt. I’m still codl??SMS: e hlp meSMS: oculd the ehatr be broken? FuKC

#;txt #sokol-the-grinder

Hit Up

Once all his targets had fallen and warehouse plunged into an eerie silence, Jacket felt a sort of tired nausea creep up from his stomach, followed by a violent static irk in his ear. He desperately wanted rest, but his job wasn’t over quite yet. He ignored the urge to vomit no matter how tempting. Jacket needed to eat.

The phone’s words rang faintly. His lips relayed the words, repeating the message as it played to keep his mind off his burning stomach. He mouthed: “Hey! This is ‘Skarlet’ from the Ice Palace Ice Rink. You wouldn’t believe what happened. ‘Neville’ slipped up and hurt himself on the ice. Can you come and fill up for him? If you forgot, it’s at West 12th Street...”

Marching on the corpse ridden floor, he moved through into the room at the end of the corridor. Nobody should be left in the building, but he still clutched the magnum just in case. He knew the chances. This “Neville” character is more than likely dead, but he still wanted to check, he still wanted to know for sure he didn’t leave someone to bleed out alone.

A kick swung the door open and he leaped in. Not a Russian but instead a masked corpse stretched on the ground like an animal rug, bullet wounds etching the head. With lips purse with disappointment, he scrapped up the squirrel mask. The physiological relief knowing that his job was technically finished pushed him off edge, causing the violent eruption of fluids from his mouth. Jacket barely had enough time to rip off his own mask and fell to his knees, staring at the yellow-green puddle. His deep heaves muted out the sound of unregistered footsteps.

@sokol-the-grinder

#v||WRONG NUMBER #t|| Hit Up #sokol-the-grinder #(( whispers i hope this is coherent ;~; ))

@sokol-the-grinder

“AYYY. If it ain’t my fuckin’ favorite Russian mail-order bride.”

For someone without a lick of information on the poor guy, Gabe sure did run into him a lot.

“SO I was thinkin’. We’ve been on the wrong foot a few times. You’re a bitch and won’t give me your number, I was a bitch and hit you with food. Y’know. We need to start over.”

He pressed his hands together as if the mothefucker is about to PRAY and points his fingers at the man. “Fight Club. But less gay. And I’m prettier than Brad ‘A Six At MOST’ Pitt. Sooooooooo...?”

#ic #sokol-the-grinder

“Tell me that the purpose of life is to have fun, and without a care in the world. I'll begin wreaking havoc on everything I pass. Now that's what I call PURE, HONEST F U N.”

― Criss Jami, Killosophy

#;promo #sokol-the-grinder #n0t-a-nice-person #i gave up on finding a perfect quote lol.#its close enough. kinda from gabe's pov i guess #fucking fight me

sokol-the-grinder replied to your post:11 replies owed… And I know I am missing a few… ...

[Points and laughs]

Shut the fuck up Ray.

#sokol-the-grinder

●, ☺, ♀, ♪

<3

#ty ahhhHH #yall so nice #;behind the light #sokol-the-grinder

#sokol-the-grinder

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