shut up, english.

‘  PEG !!

(  cue her banging on the window, the loud and obnoxious type.  )

       there’s a BRIEF moment of uncertainty about where        to place his hands. gingerly, one finds a place on        her ankle; the remaining HOVERS.

                  ❝ well enough, thank you, miss martinelli. ❞

‘ what’s the haps? the scoop. the skinny. the 411. the jizz--

(  she pauses, furrowing her brows.  )

(  kicks her feet up on his lap.  )

‘  how’s it goin’, stud?

      “Thanks, it means a lot.” God, he wishes waitresses         used to be this nice. He can remember being kicked         out before his song even ended playing on the jukebox. 

       “Hey, uh, is smoking allowed here?”

‘  nah. smokin’s bad for the kids, remember?    there is a patio out back, though. you’re free    to use it when you’re done.

sad mustache

        “Six feet on the dot, ma’am.”  He grins.

fucking fight me

veinsofwar​

and by fight me i mean kiss me a lil

fingers fold beneath her chin, curve over the smooth of her jaw. peggy’s weary looks BONE-DEEP, looks carved into the porcelain plains of her features. permanent. but she just needs a good night, really, just–––just a solid night of sleep.

       ‘        i just haven’t been sleeping, is all. is it THAT noticeable? 

angie worries. of course she worries. she’s a worry-wart, and peggy is her girl -- more or less. angie’s pretty gay. like, pretty fucking gay. but peg’s another story.