yeuphoric.
that little fucker. that’s the immediate thought that comes to franklin’s mind when he sees ( through the protection of a window blind ) the stranger running keys across the perfectly maintained framework of his car. he should just leave it — after all, the car is stolen and will be sold on in a few days anyway — but never one to back down from a fight, he’s marching outside to confront the other. “i don’t think you need to explain,” impatient hand stretches out to gesture to the damaged vehicle, “you keyed my fucking car.”
--- he should have known the car had window blinds ( tobias had some of his own for no specific reason ). when the owner steps out, tobias takes a step back. not at all what he was expecting. suspicious as always, he glances back to the windows and the damage he’d done, wondering if it’s an unmarked cop car. “well, then i guess that’s it,” shrugging his shoulders and gestures to the vehicle as well, “paint will cover it. stop parking in front of my house, dude.”
