[ The silence of the night shrouds the school; the ominous moans of the wooden floors echoes through the halls, and while normally Hajun can sleep through most nights with some comfortability he just can't tonight. It's a growing annoyance -- the lack of a bed, the lack of personal space, the fact that he's stuck within a school that he shouldn't even be in.
It pushes all of his objectives back, and while he can normally sleep with that bitterness dormant there's the idea that time back home is continuing as he's here. Further stretching out the day until he can witness the downfall of his family, of the people who left him behind, and when he remembers that he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it draws blood.
Hajun leaves his classroom with that rust in his mouth, tasting is in every corner even after he spits it into the sink. He draws a hand over his lips, the pads of his fingers brushing against tender flesh before he catches a small glimpse of his face against the mirror. Hating it, he leaves with his mood even worse, unable to sleep and taking to wandering the halls as an excuse to stretch his legs. And, just when he thought he's found a shred of normalcy to tear him away from the constant feeling of failure, he's greeted with Rika's body slumped near the mouth of the clocktower. Looking worse for wear, appearing knocked out, and while he hates that he can feel his expression switch from mild annoyance to concern he absolutely despises the weight in his chest as his heart falls.
He doesn't know what happens first: her name leaving the tip of his tongue or his fingers coming to grab her. Either way, he's here, kneeling down and examining her body -- the neck wound is noticed first, and he quickly covers it with his hand. ] Rika -- [ Why is it whispered -- Hajun only realizes now that the ball in his throat strains his words, making him sound pained. He hates that too. Hates that suddenly he's in front of someone whom he doesn't want to see harmed in this damn place. ] Rika, say something.
( she dreams of red. it's not a dream she's ever had before — which is strange, because most of them tend to repeat themselves like a clockwork — but it's not one she cares to see again, either. red liquid spills from a red cut; red stains an innocent face, one that'll probably haunt her for months to come. her sleep is restless and unfulfilling; it's not even a proper sleep, really, considering she passed out on the stone floor, the ache in her body the first thing she feels when she hears a familiar voice call her from throes of unconsciousness.
how much time passed since she blacked out? hours, probably, but it feels like weeks, what with how uncomfortable she feels with the notion of moving. her limbs ache, her neck even more so, and she honestly doesn't feel like allowing herself to wake up just yet. but, she doesn't want to cause panic, either — the person calling out to her sounds concerned, and spending any more time on the cold, hard floor will probably only make her more miserable later on.
so, she opens her eyes, slow and hesitant, blinking away leftover tears to look up at hajun's blurred face. under any normal circumstances, she'd probably bristle, unwilling to let him see her at her worst; right now, though, her mind's far more occupied with what happened earlier to really care about appearing weak. )
... — jun. ( ... is all she manages to utter, before she winces in pain, her throat burning unpleasantly. right, the cut... it's not particularly deep, just enough so that a pool of blood had gathered underneath her head, but it still stings unpleasantly.
ugh... she can regret this one later. )
So... rry. ( she utters, after a moment, eyelids fluttering shut again. she's conscious — just barely — but her body refuses to work right, muscles stagnant and sore. )
[ That mutter is enough to have him exhale a breath he's been holding the entire time. Fingers caked with old blood; still warm, however, with the pressure at least holding what little continues to seep out to stop. Hajun props her head up and examines her face, his lips slowly curling into a smile as a wave of relief washes through his body. ]
Apologize later. [ He states, his voice deprived of that faux innocence he puts on.
His arms encircle around her, picking up Rika in a princess carry. The pool of blood that she had been lying in drenches the sleeve of his shirt, ignoring the heavy smell of rust, grunting as he gets back on both feet. He looks around to find the nearest being 1-a and enters, pushing the door open with his foot before he walks through. He sets her down against the wall, pushing several desks together before he places her on top.
Removing his jacket, he forms it into a pillow and places it below her head, rolling up his sleeves. ] You just had to get in trouble while the infirmary is closed... Fine. [ He searches the inside of the desk, finding a box cutter and grimacing before he cuts a piece of fabric off from the bottom of his shirt (rip his designer brand...). Tearing up a piece to put onto the wound, pressing his palm down. ]
Rika, do you hear me? I'm not going to forgive you if you die on me.
( is later really okay? does she have the luxury of waiting, when there's a life lost and blood on her hands? she could've done something — she knows she could've tried harder to stop it. she should have, but fear and hesitation paralyzed her, torn between saving a life and hurting another. there's no easy way outs, though, when the situation gets this dire — she knows this, and yet she choked, anyway, not at all used to the idea of actually trying to hurt another living being, even if it's in defense.
sniffling weakly, she lets her head rest against his chest, the warmth of his body strangely comforting. she feels cold and dizzy, which... makes sense, considering she's been laying on the stone floor for a while, losing blood — and though she wants to cling to him childishly, her arms just refuse to work.
he makes a quick work of the desks in the classroom, and as regretful as it is to lose the comfort of his arms around her, she's still grateful he's even bothering with this, given how... nasty she was to him last time. she wants to argue that he was nasty, too, so it made perfect sense, but honestly, it doesn't matter. he's older than her — and mature enough to let that go, probably, so... she'll let it go, too.
exhaling slowly, she tips her head to the side, resting it against his jacket and letting him press his hand to the wound. right... the infirmary is closed at night... it should be opening up soon, considering it's probably very early in the morning, but for now, they'll have to make do with just this. )
This would be... a dumb way to die. ( she decides, suddenly. the cut was made by herself, and it was never meant to be this deep in the first place — it was never meant to exist, really, but, again, she choked, preferring to hurt herself than another person.
and then, quietly: ) I'm cold. ( hold her hand or something!! )
[ Unaware of the situation, of the dilemma that Rika had to face, Hajun is left only to wonder how she received such a wound. There's a small sliver of him that feels angry; boiling over, surfacing in his features in the form of furrowed brows.
He feels weak because this is all he can do; feels hopeless because all he can do is watch. ] It would be. [ And yet his tone remains harsh, as if offended that his time is wasted aiding her. Another way of distracting him from the feeling that he may potentially lose someone -- even if, realistically, Rika should have died a long time ago... there's still a chance if he doesn't tend to her now. At least until the infirmary opens and he can get her proper attention from the nurse.
Hajun pulls a chair beside her, sitting down as he continues to grumble. ]
And the only memory I would have of you is being an absolute witch. A spoiled rotten girl who thinks the world owes her something, too much trouble.
[ He bites his bottom lip, body moving before he realizes his hand is slipping over to take hers. Slowly, sliding underneath and feeling the weight of her palm before his fingers curl. Feeling how cold she is, heart dropping. ] So you can't die... if you did, I wouldn't forgive you.
( ah... now she remembers why they never got along. they're too alike — too quick to mask their real feelings behind harsh words, meaning well, unable to express it. they're both too closed off; too adamant to keep their problems and issues to themselves, too used to relying on nobody that when push comes to shove they're always alone, always left somewhere behind. who would stop and wait for unwanted children? the world lives on; life continues, passes them by, uncaring of their involvement.
she feels distant from everything, always — right now, though, she's as close to hajun as she's ever been. )
Spoiled... ( she repeats, a little amused. well, nobody's ever spoiled her, so he's got that wrong; she acts like the world owes her something, because it does. isn't it unfair, that she'll never get to experience the same things as other kids? being spoiled? being wanted? being treated well?
the harsh shell she surrounds her heart with is there for a reason: if she doesn't act like everyone owes her something, nobody will ever give her anything. or so she believes, at least.
his hand is warm. her whole body feels frozen cold, skin paler than usual, breaths uneven. but... she can feel the way he slides his palm beneath hers; slow, tender, almost, the warmth of it spreading across her arm. she clings to that heat; reminds herself that there's people, as brief as they are, who wouldn't want her to die just yet. giving up is as easy as closing her eyes and waiting for impact: she remembers the way it felt back home, the seconds that separated her from death, and shivers, fearful.
no... she doesn't want to die. she can't. not yet. )
I guess... I have to stick around, huh? For the prince's forgiveness. ( she smiles, a little sheepish, cold fingers squeezing his hand weakly. the truth is, she needs it — forgiveness. she just let someone die, and though there wasn't much she could do to stop it, it... still feels as if she hasn't done enough. as if she wasn't ready to go far enough to save a life, and it weighs heavy on her shoulders. ) Hey... have you ever... hurt someone? Like... physically. Beat them up, or... something?
[ It comes easier this way. Distant -- needing that separation to keep himself from ever being betrayed again. His heart no longer aches with longing when he thinks of his family; it only ever reminds him of who he can't be anymore. Open, sensitive, and loving. Because the moment he's any of those things he'll be disappointed with the reality that he'll always be alone. ]
Don't call me that. Not unless if you intend to treat me as one.
[ So his tone remains leveled and bitter, hiding the fact that his concern is so evident in his face that he may as well be crying. Hajun wishes for the hour to be over with already, for the sake of rushing her to the infimary and not be here -- holding her hand, keeping her talking, and having to reveal little secrets. ]
... I haven't. [ He speaks honestly, even if he doesn't want to. ] Word would spread and I would undoubtedly lose everything I was building up... so if I have to fight, I'll do it in the dark.
I can't treat you as one when... all you do is insult meeeee... ( she whines, like a child, as if she's not also insulting him in return, but, look, details.
if he wants to be treated as a prince, he should behave as one? except, she wouldn't want that fake, smiley hajun, either. the real him — unmasked by the fifty thousand walls he's built around himself, similar to her. maybe it's selfish of her to want to see a glimpse of it, but... they've already kind of screwed each other in that regard, anyway, haven't they? showing each other things that normally nobody would be allowed to see.)
... ( she pauses for a moment, thoughtful. ) ... and... if you could save someone... would you still refrain... ?
Are you kidding? [ Hajun doesn't mean to, but he laughs; soft and boyish, exhaling as the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. ] You're capable, you just don't want to -- I'm curious, actually, if that's because you like being insulted?
[ The question extends and he pauses, briefly. Considers what to say and how to say it; he wonders how ugly he can be with his response, how honest. ]
There are people I want to hurt. [ -- Inhale, exhale. ] There are people that I want to kill -- and I will. And I'll ensure that they die a painful, miserable death. [ His fingers twitch, wanting to pull away and no longer feel another person as he slowly disarms himself. Allowing Rika a glimpse into another half -- his true half -- that Hajun keeps hidden. ] For the people I care for, too, I might... because I couldn't stand losing anyone else.
( says miss calls people ugly and fat, but listen. she understands, now, the weight of her own words — and how hurtful insults can be, if aimed properly. then again... masochists exist...
well, cannot be her. she wants praise and compliments and adoration, thank you.
she watches him, quiet; feels his hand twitch, as if he's about to pull away, but — he seems to brave through the urge, if only to comfort her. she appreciates it, though it goes unspoken, as she listens to his words — real, determined, in a rare moment of complete honesty. ... yeah, that... makes sense. she doesn't want to lose anyone else, either. she's not good with loss — it consumes her, burns her from the inside out, the ever-bleeding heart too weak to handle it.
if... if it were to prevent it... )
That's... actually really admirable, y'know? The determination it takes for that... I... I couldn't do anything. ( she turns her head to look at the ceiling, lips curving into a deep frown. ) I just... I froze. I panicked. It's my fault.
( her heartbeat spikes, body shifting uncomfortably; she wants to turn back time. she wants to do more, but she can't, and it's the worst feeling in the world. )
Calm down. [ He says, thumb brushing over her knuckles. ] You'll strain your throat. The last thing I want is for you to also complain about losing your voice... even though I think most here would prefer not to hear whatever you have to say for a few days.
[ All teasing and insults aside, Hajun deflects. Defending the slow unravel that shows his heart, ugly and full of scars that refuse to heal; he can't, not until he's ensured that the family that drowned him with conditional love receive the brunt force of all his anguish. The years of loneliness, the fact that he was brought into this world only to be abandoned twice -- all the love he's ever received had to be earned. And not an ounce of it was actually genuine.
Perhaps that's why he's readily prepared to destroy it all. Even at the cost of his own body and mind; continuously experiencing his traumas, furthering rendering his body to rotten metal. There's a part of him that doesn't care for the end of himself, so long as he accomplishes his goal... if his body were to be destroyed, his mind lost to his pain, he'd at least die knowing he'd won.
He won. Unloved and unwanted. An unneeded child leaving his mark. ]
You're still a child. [ The morning sun begins to peer behind them through the windows. ] If you were able to instinctively decide that you can kill a person, you'd just lead yourself somewhere no one can reach you. [ Hajun glances behind him, eyes squinting as he's met with the bright light before he rises back up on his feet. ] Plus, it wouldn't be very cute of you.
[ That said, Hajun bends down slightly again to princess carry her. Taking a glance over his jacket that's now drenched in blood; he steadies his expression, ensures that he doesn't look disappointed before he begins his walk towards the nurses office. ]
( she snickers at that, amused, because... well, he's not wrong, but is she gonna do everyone a favor and shut the fuck up? absolutely not.
that said, she remains quiet, listening to her own, calming heartbeat and focusing on the warmth of his touch. his thumb brushes over her knuckles, and she lets her eyelids flutter shut, feeling a moment of peace... for the first time tonight, pretty much. it's hard to think of anything else but the repeating sight of the girl's slit throat, of her desperate cries, of what else she could do to prevent it —
but then hajun speaks, and she feels relief. these words... she can't express it, but hearing them means so much — she's been struggling with this for a long time, now, with the necessity of hurting others to survive, but... he's right. if she were able to just throw her humanity away like this, consequences be damned, she wouldn't be herself anymore. blinking the tears out of her eyes, she wants to tell him how thankful she is, but... finding the right words is hard. instead, she smiles and nods, clearly calmer, arms reaching to wrap around his neck as soon as he picks her up. )
Killing people is not cute? First time I hear that. ( snorting against his shoulder, she glances down at the table set-up, and the bloodied jacket on top of it.
damn... that's gonna cost her and arm and a leg, huh... )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
after she gets her throat slashed idk
It pushes all of his objectives back, and while he can normally sleep with that bitterness dormant there's the idea that time back home is continuing as he's here. Further stretching out the day until he can witness the downfall of his family, of the people who left him behind, and when he remembers that he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it draws blood.
Hajun leaves his classroom with that rust in his mouth, tasting is in every corner even after he spits it into the sink. He draws a hand over his lips, the pads of his fingers brushing against tender flesh before he catches a small glimpse of his face against the mirror. Hating it, he leaves with his mood even worse, unable to sleep and taking to wandering the halls as an excuse to stretch his legs. And, just when he thought he's found a shred of normalcy to tear him away from the constant feeling of failure, he's greeted with Rika's body slumped near the mouth of the clocktower. Looking worse for wear, appearing knocked out, and while he hates that he can feel his expression switch from mild annoyance to concern he absolutely despises the weight in his chest as his heart falls.
He doesn't know what happens first: her name leaving the tip of his tongue or his fingers coming to grab her. Either way, he's here, kneeling down and examining her body -- the neck wound is noticed first, and he quickly covers it with his hand. ] Rika -- [ Why is it whispered -- Hajun only realizes now that the ball in his throat strains his words, making him sound pained. He hates that too. Hates that suddenly he's in front of someone whom he doesn't want to see harmed in this damn place. ] Rika, say something.
[ Just so he knows whether to scream or not. ]
v early morning of 5/12... I THINK
how much time passed since she blacked out? hours, probably, but it feels like weeks, what with how uncomfortable she feels with the notion of moving. her limbs ache, her neck even more so, and she honestly doesn't feel like allowing herself to wake up just yet. but, she doesn't want to cause panic, either — the person calling out to her sounds concerned, and spending any more time on the cold, hard floor will probably only make her more miserable later on.
so, she opens her eyes, slow and hesitant, blinking away leftover tears to look up at hajun's blurred face. under any normal circumstances, she'd probably bristle, unwilling to let him see her at her worst; right now, though, her mind's far more occupied with what happened earlier to really care about appearing weak. )
... — jun. ( ... is all she manages to utter, before she winces in pain, her throat burning unpleasantly. right, the cut... it's not particularly deep, just enough so that a pool of blood had gathered underneath her head, but it still stings unpleasantly.
ugh... she can regret this one later. )
So... rry. ( she utters, after a moment, eyelids fluttering shut again. she's conscious — just barely — but her body refuses to work right, muscles stagnant and sore. )
no subject
Apologize later. [ He states, his voice deprived of that faux innocence he puts on.
His arms encircle around her, picking up Rika in a princess carry. The pool of blood that she had been lying in drenches the sleeve of his shirt, ignoring the heavy smell of rust, grunting as he gets back on both feet. He looks around to find the nearest being 1-a and enters, pushing the door open with his foot before he walks through. He sets her down against the wall, pushing several desks together before he places her on top.
Removing his jacket, he forms it into a pillow and places it below her head, rolling up his sleeves. ] You just had to get in trouble while the infirmary is closed... Fine. [ He searches the inside of the desk, finding a box cutter and grimacing before he cuts a piece of fabric off from the bottom of his shirt (rip his designer brand...). Tearing up a piece to put onto the wound, pressing his palm down. ]
Rika, do you hear me? I'm not going to forgive you if you die on me.
no subject
sniffling weakly, she lets her head rest against his chest, the warmth of his body strangely comforting. she feels cold and dizzy, which... makes sense, considering she's been laying on the stone floor for a while, losing blood — and though she wants to cling to him childishly, her arms just refuse to work.
he makes a quick work of the desks in the classroom, and as regretful as it is to lose the comfort of his arms around her, she's still grateful he's even bothering with this, given how... nasty she was to him last time. she wants to argue that he was nasty, too, so it made perfect sense, but honestly, it doesn't matter. he's older than her — and mature enough to let that go, probably, so... she'll let it go, too.
exhaling slowly, she tips her head to the side, resting it against his jacket and letting him press his hand to the wound. right... the infirmary is closed at night... it should be opening up soon, considering it's probably very early in the morning, but for now, they'll have to make do with just this. )
This would be... a dumb way to die. ( she decides, suddenly. the cut was made by herself, and it was never meant to be this deep in the first place — it was never meant to exist, really, but, again, she choked, preferring to hurt herself than another person.
and then, quietly: ) I'm cold. ( hold her hand or something!! )
no subject
He feels weak because this is all he can do; feels hopeless because all he can do is watch. ] It would be. [ And yet his tone remains harsh, as if offended that his time is wasted aiding her. Another way of distracting him from the feeling that he may potentially lose someone -- even if, realistically, Rika should have died a long time ago... there's still a chance if he doesn't tend to her now. At least until the infirmary opens and he can get her proper attention from the nurse.
Hajun pulls a chair beside her, sitting down as he continues to grumble. ]
And the only memory I would have of you is being an absolute witch. A spoiled rotten girl who thinks the world owes her something, too much trouble.
[ He bites his bottom lip, body moving before he realizes his hand is slipping over to take hers. Slowly, sliding underneath and feeling the weight of her palm before his fingers curl. Feeling how cold she is, heart dropping. ] So you can't die... if you did, I wouldn't forgive you.
no subject
she feels distant from everything, always — right now, though, she's as close to hajun as she's ever been. )
Spoiled... ( she repeats, a little amused. well, nobody's ever spoiled her, so he's got that wrong; she acts like the world owes her something, because it does. isn't it unfair, that she'll never get to experience the same things as other kids? being spoiled? being wanted? being treated well?
the harsh shell she surrounds her heart with is there for a reason: if she doesn't act like everyone owes her something, nobody will ever give her anything. or so she believes, at least.
his hand is warm. her whole body feels frozen cold, skin paler than usual, breaths uneven. but... she can feel the way he slides his palm beneath hers; slow, tender, almost, the warmth of it spreading across her arm. she clings to that heat; reminds herself that there's people, as brief as they are, who wouldn't want her to die just yet. giving up is as easy as closing her eyes and waiting for impact: she remembers the way it felt back home, the seconds that separated her from death, and shivers, fearful.
no... she doesn't want to die. she can't. not yet. )
I guess... I have to stick around, huh? For the prince's forgiveness. ( she smiles, a little sheepish, cold fingers squeezing his hand weakly. the truth is, she needs it — forgiveness. she just let someone die, and though there wasn't much she could do to stop it, it... still feels as if she hasn't done enough. as if she wasn't ready to go far enough to save a life, and it weighs heavy on her shoulders. ) Hey... have you ever... hurt someone? Like... physically. Beat them up, or... something?
no subject
Don't call me that. Not unless if you intend to treat me as one.
[ So his tone remains leveled and bitter, hiding the fact that his concern is so evident in his face that he may as well be crying. Hajun wishes for the hour to be over with already, for the sake of rushing her to the infimary and not be here -- holding her hand, keeping her talking, and having to reveal little secrets. ]
... I haven't. [ He speaks honestly, even if he doesn't want to. ] Word would spread and I would undoubtedly lose everything I was building up... so if I have to fight, I'll do it in the dark.
no subject
if he wants to be treated as a prince, he should behave as one? except, she wouldn't want that fake, smiley hajun, either. the real him — unmasked by the fifty thousand walls he's built around himself, similar to her. maybe it's selfish of her to want to see a glimpse of it, but... they've already kind of screwed each other in that regard, anyway, haven't they? showing each other things that normally nobody would be allowed to see.)
... ( she pauses for a moment, thoughtful. ) ... and... if you could save someone... would you still refrain... ?
no subject
[ The question extends and he pauses, briefly. Considers what to say and how to say it; he wonders how ugly he can be with his response, how honest. ]
There are people I want to hurt. [ -- Inhale, exhale. ] There are people that I want to kill -- and I will. And I'll ensure that they die a painful, miserable death. [ His fingers twitch, wanting to pull away and no longer feel another person as he slowly disarms himself. Allowing Rika a glimpse into another half -- his true half -- that Hajun keeps hidden. ] For the people I care for, too, I might... because I couldn't stand losing anyone else.
no subject
( says miss calls people ugly and fat, but listen. she understands, now, the weight of her own words — and how hurtful insults can be, if aimed properly. then again... masochists exist...
well, cannot be her. she wants praise and compliments and adoration, thank you.
she watches him, quiet; feels his hand twitch, as if he's about to pull away, but — he seems to brave through the urge, if only to comfort her. she appreciates it, though it goes unspoken, as she listens to his words — real, determined, in a rare moment of complete honesty. ... yeah, that... makes sense. she doesn't want to lose anyone else, either. she's not good with loss — it consumes her, burns her from the inside out, the ever-bleeding heart too weak to handle it.
if... if it were to prevent it... )
That's... actually really admirable, y'know? The determination it takes for that... I... I couldn't do anything. ( she turns her head to look at the ceiling, lips curving into a deep frown. ) I just... I froze. I panicked. It's my fault.
( her heartbeat spikes, body shifting uncomfortably; she wants to turn back time. she wants to do more, but she can't, and it's the worst feeling in the world. )
no subject
[ All teasing and insults aside, Hajun deflects. Defending the slow unravel that shows his heart, ugly and full of scars that refuse to heal; he can't, not until he's ensured that the family that drowned him with conditional love receive the brunt force of all his anguish. The years of loneliness, the fact that he was brought into this world only to be abandoned twice -- all the love he's ever received had to be earned. And not an ounce of it was actually genuine.
Perhaps that's why he's readily prepared to destroy it all. Even at the cost of his own body and mind; continuously experiencing his traumas, furthering rendering his body to rotten metal. There's a part of him that doesn't care for the end of himself, so long as he accomplishes his goal... if his body were to be destroyed, his mind lost to his pain, he'd at least die knowing he'd won.
He won. Unloved and unwanted. An unneeded child leaving his mark. ]
You're still a child. [ The morning sun begins to peer behind them through the windows. ] If you were able to instinctively decide that you can kill a person, you'd just lead yourself somewhere no one can reach you. [ Hajun glances behind him, eyes squinting as he's met with the bright light before he rises back up on his feet. ] Plus, it wouldn't be very cute of you.
[ That said, Hajun bends down slightly again to princess carry her. Taking a glance over his jacket that's now drenched in blood; he steadies his expression, ensures that he doesn't look disappointed before he begins his walk towards the nurses office. ]
no subject
that said, she remains quiet, listening to her own, calming heartbeat and focusing on the warmth of his touch. his thumb brushes over her knuckles, and she lets her eyelids flutter shut, feeling a moment of peace... for the first time tonight, pretty much. it's hard to think of anything else but the repeating sight of the girl's slit throat, of her desperate cries, of what else she could do to prevent it —
but then hajun speaks, and she feels relief. these words... she can't express it, but hearing them means so much — she's been struggling with this for a long time, now, with the necessity of hurting others to survive, but... he's right. if she were able to just throw her humanity away like this, consequences be damned, she wouldn't be herself anymore. blinking the tears out of her eyes, she wants to tell him how thankful she is, but... finding the right words is hard. instead, she smiles and nods, clearly calmer, arms reaching to wrap around his neck as soon as he picks her up. )
Killing people is not cute? First time I hear that. ( snorting against his shoulder, she glances down at the table set-up, and the bloodied jacket on top of it.
damn... that's gonna cost her and arm and a leg, huh... )