bare those teeth and snarl, baby!

        “well, obviously there would be survivors. some humans are like cockroaches,” dark eyes roll a little dramatically, shoulders rolling a bit as the poltergeist picks at the ends of her hair. “of those survivors, we pretty much create the hunger games and get to watch them destroy each other in the name of survival. naturally there will be a resistance, which is always fun. they’ll give some hope that can constantly be crushed.”

       “i mean, i’d hope ya’ do,” there’s a wink, nose wrinkling a little to press a kiss to his cheek. “probably not, but i’m pretty sure nobody fucked with you after that.” 

       “ya’ adorable,” that’s probably not the right response, but that’s what she’s going with. “that’s a perfectly reasonable response.”

        “i like ya’,” a soft snort escapes the poltergeist, head shaking a little to offer lips curled in a smirk. “it’s so easy, too. it’s like they’re just waiting for some reason to turn on each other. really, it’s dumb luck they haven’t wiped themselves out completely.”

              “well, that ain’t necessarily true. immortality don’t always mean dead,” there’s a shrug, rolling the cigarette’s filter between her fingers. dark eyes come up to him, head tipped a bit to the side to give him a wide gaze. curious, but no where near innocent. “how many poltergeist do ya’ know, sweetheart. we ain’t all the same. don’t gotta take advantage of ya’ to be entertained.”

       “well, thank ya’ kindly good sir,” dark eyes roll, letting her accent get thicker than it’d been since she’d died as she give a mock curtsy. “your daddy’s daddy’s probably ain’t old enough t’be my daddy, pretty. only one who really gets away with it anyways,” any they’re not around, so it’s a moot point, but it got a rise out of him. “nah, i ain’t all about that life. shitty thing to do. just a peace offering.”

           “ hundred--- sixty years ago. come november. besides, i was a nice southern girl once upon a time. daddy was standard, even on the farm. would ya’ rather i call you daddy?” dark eyes are wide and entirely serious, head tipped a little to the side as she watches him. “is gettin’ ya’ drunk gonna win ya’ over?”

        “i like the smell. my daddy used to smoke.” shoulders lift a little, exhaling smoke at him with lifted brows. it doesn’t effect her at all, not the tar or the nicotine that repeatedly burn down on each inhale. “do i look like i have money? what do ya’ think i’m gonna do, rob a liquor store to get ya’ to perform like a domesticated pet?”

@fangsandfur liked for a starter

           a huff of smoke escapes her, head tipped back a little with a sigh. lets her hand get swatted away because really, it’s not nice to mess with him. too much, though it’s been decades since anyone described letha as nice. “you’re not quite dead, not quite alive. ya’ can’t deny a dead girl her entertainment.” 

           “slowly an’ surely, from the inside out, love. all it takes is the right amount of time and focus. no flames, and the only smoke’s not really enough to knock you out or kill ya’. i know, ya’ know. from personal experience,” shoulders lift a little to reach up again, flicking. “bullshit. don’t be a fuck for the sake of bein’ a fuck.”