Sep. 30th, 2009

ethangranger: (steady to hell)
Part of this series

A friend whose got your back, one last bullet in your gun, someone you trust. Whatever man, all those things? Fuck. They're just another way to die. Trust is the potion of fools and he sure as hell wasn't gonna drink from that flask. Except...

"Deh fuck you waiting for?" Granger turned back toward the voice with the heavy accent. Taking a drag of the cigarette, he slowly let the smoke out in the guy's face. His face was something else, too. It looked like his features had melted half off his face and soured into a curdled lump somewhere where his nose was supposed to be. This was man he was expected to trust? Right. There was a snowballs chance in hell.
"You in a rush to get somewhere, Manuel?" Like the Mexican border perhaps? Granger threw the butt onto the ground and snuffed it out under his boot while lighting up another. Walking around American classic car, he got in, put the car into drive and shuttled off toward Algodones, just across the border. Manuel grinned and in that moment Granger decided that he would try to refrain from doing or saying anything that would make that man grin again.
We don't always finish what we've started )
ethangranger: (pensive)
"Wasn't enough to watch her die, was it? Fuck." Granger looked at the blood seeping into the carpet, and although it had been more than a decade that spilled blood made him sick, the Skinwalker's dress hiked above her head did. He knew what had gone down here. "You know, you're sick, man. This is bullshit." Riding in this world alone. God take your soul, you're on your own. On the devil's bed until you die. )


ethangranger: (Default)

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