fight like a g i r l ;

        | ♛ | “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry–” apologized the Frenchwoman. “It can wait until tomorrow, no problem. Do you want me to help you close up?”

      “Alright then, thank you.” Lawrence       looked at it, not planning on open the       envelope with Jill around. He pushed       it aside slightly, before looking at her.

                                “How are things with you?”

     “Besides the interrogations? Alright,” to         say to the least. Once she seemed to         move along the topic of her ex-husband,         she’s spun right back into the middle of it all. 

    Jonathan reclines, arms bended to settle leisurely upon available rests slanted in give by weight administered in his brief motion.     “Oh, well your involvement with a rotting, late husband of petty crime and manic- inadequate ‘tests’ may merit rationale to regret.” 

            There’s a gulp within the older woman’s throat, as if there’s a sob holding back-- constricting. Straight to the point, it seems.  

Lisbeth simply rolls her eyes, giving the  older woman an irritated glare.         “I’d appreciate the same.”

again, this wasn’t appreciated.  but, what can one do?  

“Well, in case ya’ haven’t noticed; our friendly  neighborhood Doctor is a cripple. He’s called  upon me ta’ do his heavy liftin’, Mrs. Tuck.”

❝ no. it’s just that you’re, like, really pretty. what are you DOING hanging out with THEM? ❞