LEX TALIONIS.

another picrew  because it’s just too cute.   featuring my grumpy girls pat & yara who’ll soon be back at @pragmatics

i talk a lot about pat’s skills and abilities,  so here are some things  ( mostly crime-related )  pat  cannot  do:

patching up wounds   ━━   her family has always had cartel doctors at their disposal.   she  can  pop a bone back into place or do some makeshift stitches,  but they’re shitty and definitely not reliable in a life or death situation.

handling herself without money   ━━   money often gets her out of bad situations,  whether it be through paid protection,  bribes,  paying others to do the jobs she can’t or doesn’t want to do,  or simply having the means to get everything she needs whenever she needs it.

keeping a low profile   ━━   if she wasn’t meant to be seen,  god wouldn’t have made her a fire sign.   her personality,  behavior and appearance easily attract attention,  which can be bad when it comes to criminal activities.   it’s why she prefers to stick to cartel territories where they have the police on their payroll and she doesn’t have to worry about being careful or discreet.

❝ i want to be more like you. ❞

inbox cleaning   /   @crestazul​​

SHE TRIES TO HIDE  the part of her that’s sad at the statement   ━━   the part that wouldn’t wish annie to be any  different  than she is,   let alone more like someone like pat.     someone who’s been hardened over the years to the point of feeling little empathy for others.     it suits her well.     it stops her from getting hurt once again,   or at least that’s what she tells herself.

and yet,   when she thinks about annie,   pat wouldn’t wish her to be like herself at all.

❝ does it hurt? ❞

inbox cleaning   /   @stfreds​​

SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHERE ELSE TO GO.     all reliable doctors she knows would report to juárez,   and too many  questions  she can’t answer would be raised.     césar is out of town,   too busy to pick up the damn phone,   and she doesn’t trust anyone else not to rat her out   ━━   except,   maybe,   for the woman standing above her.

when she’d showed up to fred’s doorstep with a bullet graze on her scalp,   mere millimiters beneath her temple,   she’d fully expected the woman to shut the door on her face.     blood oozes down the side of her face;   some of it ticking down her neck and into her shirt,   most  of it making a mess out of her hair.     and,  for some reason,   fred lets her in instead.     she sits her down on the couch and dabs at the blood on her skin with a damp hand towel,   and,   when it touches the wound,   pat can’t help but wince.