not dead i s2g

"You're trying to get a lot out of your system..." She mumbled. She shook her jaw from side to side while she tried to decide whether or not she wanted to engage in this tomfoolery...

And then she remembered why this stranger was her girl and Ronnie’s laugh died in her throat. She turned away from the redhead, greedily accepting the drink the bartender took from her as if she hadn’t had a drink in years.  If it weren’t for the circumstances, Ronnie would’ve liked this girl, she would’ve even wanted to befriend her, maybe. And yet here she was, about to offer the chance of a lifetime. The chance to throw her life away forever. The thought of it gave Ronnie a bad taste in her mouth. 

She was happily jammin to the (probably Johnny Cash ripoff) tune in her head when for the 100th time someone in Oxford knew her damn name. Most days here, Bunnie felt like she was under a spotlight, being stalked by little wolfpups who wanted to get to know her and welcome her to the family. Bunnie had never been good at families; she'd stabbed her own father, and she wasn't going to get any better anytime soon. Who among the Oxford population would she stab first?

As Bunnie's neck painfully craned sideways to lay her eyes upon the owner of the voice, she decided that this girl would make a fine pick. There was probably some shmuck around town who was in love with her big eyes and her pouty lips. They would spread the word to just leave Bunnie Boomer the fuck alone in her car in the middle of the woods. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been held at knife point, obviously. It was a weekly occurrence, to be honest — Finnigan Sanders was a glorified piece of shit. He didn’t just live in a fucking forest by choice, he had made so many enemies on the outside that if he actually had a home on a street with a road and a front door that wasn’t made out of hippie beads, that house would be burned to the ground by this point. Shit and pissed on, egged and ransacked and blown to smithereens a thousand times over. The forest was a defense mechanism.

Also he couldn’t afford to live on the grid; he wasn’t a fucking prince. Or a Belfront. Or a human being with any motivation.

He didn’t know where she motioned to. Finn didn’t really care where her shirt was, or what it looked like, or where the fake stain probably was, or how it got there, or why it wasn’t on her body. He especially didn’t care when her knife reached his belly button. In fact, he really only cared when she pocketed her knife and turned to walk away. He could get down with knives. Were they not gonna get down? With knives?

Finn let out a low growl, his eyes narrowing as she spit the bottle cap into the sink next to her stupid shirt. This fuckin’ chick. “I. Don’t. Care. About. The. Stain. On. Your. Shirt. I. Just. Want. You. OUT. OF. MY. HOUSE.” Finn stomped over, grabbing her elbow and leading to the “door.” “Lady. you are some next level form of crazy if you think you can waltz on into my home, drink the beers I paid for —” (he did not pay for those beers ever) “— and expect me to just let you stay,” Finn rambled, giving her a shove outside. “That’s a law. Probably everywhere not just in Mississippi.” Finn knew nothing about the law. This was hypocritical. “So — fuck you, ya lady temptress! And fuck your shirt! —” Finn picked up his own shirt he had left out on a stump, tossing it at her “—aaand fuck you for eating my peanut butter!”

Bunnie was just laughing her ass off as he went about shoving her out the door. "I am a lady!" She said in a sarcastic flabbergasted voice. "Don't you touch me like th--" She could go on all day pulling at his strings (maybe the ones around his waist), but he had thrown something in her face to get her to shut up. Wise move. Bunnie huffed and puffed the shirt away, making a face. "This smells." She looked up at him. "Is this yours?" Bunnie was by no means the type of person with the right to judge someone for smelling or general hygiene, even just simply being a living person; the fact that she was not supposed to do something had never stopped her before though.

You’ll hear the music fill the air

I’ll put a flower in your hair

Taking a deep breath, Bunnie charged inside the stupidly funky coffee shop where she felt like everyone was reading a book written by a dead guy and headed straight for the bathroom. Literally nothing else could get Bunnie into a coffee shop. After she emerged, however, she found herself tickled by a shitfaced guy holding onto a cup of joe for dear life. She recognized her spidey senses going off immediately, amazed how much damn werewolves could live in Oxford. 

Ronnie hated drug dealing. It was quite possibly the one thing in the world that actually made her nervous. When Logan had offered her drugs when they were teens, she had thought that was the most illegal thing she would ever do. And yet, years later, Logan had managed to manipulate her into being one of his favorite traffickers. She hated it, but had easily become one of the best in Logan’s little gang. 

Eventually, though, Logan was looking to expand his reach. He wanted more traffickers so that he sell more product and obviously, make more money. He kept a pretty good tab on people within the Oxford community so when news got to him that a newcomer had made her way into town and seemed to be somewhat homeless, Logan leapt at the opportunity. Sending Ronnie, because girl talk and all that shit, with a proposition for the spunky vagabond, Logan felt sure he would have a new alliance for sure. 

Ronnie wasn’t so certain. In fact, she was more pissed off the fact that she was the one being forced to approach a complete stranger and asking them to join in in a completely illegal activity. Something that could easily get her arrested. On top of that, she didn’t know where to fucking start to find this girl. She vaguely knew what she looked like and her name was Bunnie, but that was about it. 

...but as much as Bunnie would bitch and gripe about being bothered by all these friendly folk, she wasn't doing much to try leaving. Maybe she didn't want to admit thinking it was cool being around other werewolves... maybe she didn't even know she thought it was cool. As someone with the emotional maturity of a hungry toddler, Bunnie couldn't stand to think that hard about her feelings before she started to get a stress migraine. But regardless, something or someone was keeping her in Oxford. 

On tonight's episode of Bunnie Boomer in Mississippi, she strode into the Oxford Barr like a ridiculous cowboy from a Clint Eastwood western movie... boots wearing, frown toting, hip leading and all. She might as well have been chewing on a piece of straw. When Bunnie buckled her way over to the bar top, the bartender immediately started shaking his head. "No no no, Bunnie. Not tonight. Get out." He, of course, was referring to the several times Bunnie had come in, ordered a few drinks, and then left without paying. She was surprised he hadn't arrested her.