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Walk the Line
Mar. 26th, 2009 11:44 pmMarch Character Development Exercise for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tenebrae_nostro
Video log # 03/2003 [Destroyed in lab explosion]
New Mexico
June, 2003
"Hey honey, lookin' for some fun?"
It was her. The one that I've had my eye on for a while. Funny that she had found me.
"Been lookin' for you a long time." I mumbled because I know she can hear me.The end of my unfinished smoke gets crushed into the ashtray, its gimpy neck smushing into itself as the white lining tears and tobacco spews forward. Pretty sure some of you talented types would get a great metaphor outta that. Like I give a shit. Getting up, I grab my jacket off the back of the wooden stool as I give her a warm smile. I learned a long time ago not to give away the loathing in my eyes. The hate. It isn't always easy, but if you smile and soften the other features around your face they think that its just dangerous enough to give them a thrill. Something that makes them wet enough to want to fuck you, but not trust you. Don't understand it myself, but I'm not gonna start asking questions now. As we move through the bar toward the exit, I put my hand on the back of her neck and give it a soft squeeze. She smiles cause it feels warm against her cold skin. Yeah, it makes me smile too, darlin'. Fuck, it even makes my heart sing. Her blond hair has lost that sheen to it that I remember it having some months ago. Maybe it was a reflection of how lifeless she felt on the inside. I like long hair, it gives me something to pull in the heat of the moment. And I sure as hell like to pack a lot of heat.
( What can I say? I'm a realist. )
tenebrae_nostro Video log # 03/2003 [Destroyed in lab explosion]
New Mexico
June, 2003
"Hey honey, lookin' for some fun?"
It was her. The one that I've had my eye on for a while. Funny that she had found me.
"Been lookin' for you a long time." I mumbled because I know she can hear me.The end of my unfinished smoke gets crushed into the ashtray, its gimpy neck smushing into itself as the white lining tears and tobacco spews forward. Pretty sure some of you talented types would get a great metaphor outta that. Like I give a shit. Getting up, I grab my jacket off the back of the wooden stool as I give her a warm smile. I learned a long time ago not to give away the loathing in my eyes. The hate. It isn't always easy, but if you smile and soften the other features around your face they think that its just dangerous enough to give them a thrill. Something that makes them wet enough to want to fuck you, but not trust you. Don't understand it myself, but I'm not gonna start asking questions now. As we move through the bar toward the exit, I put my hand on the back of her neck and give it a soft squeeze. She smiles cause it feels warm against her cold skin. Yeah, it makes me smile too, darlin'. Fuck, it even makes my heart sing. Her blond hair has lost that sheen to it that I remember it having some months ago. Maybe it was a reflection of how lifeless she felt on the inside. I like long hair, it gives me something to pull in the heat of the moment. And I sure as hell like to pack a lot of heat.
( What can I say? I'm a realist. )
