let's get away

You’re too good at this. I can’t tell when you’re being serious or not.

“The old man isn’t too fond of lawsuits, wouldn’t ya know?”

Well, who is? Other than, like... A... Rich, white wife.

I’ll pick you up after work then?

“Probably, I mean you grew up with them, it makes sense to get bored. I think I’d enjoy some corn on the cob. I hope our famous milk has lived up to the expectations, at least. It goes great with our coffee, some say.”

Eh. It’s decent with the coffee. Kinda gets the taste of the other things in my fridge, but... Eh.

Leslie knew she caught the other girls eye and whether there was a plan to get her away from these annoying strangers or not, Leslie would just have to deal for the time being. Though, when one of them grabbed her arm and ushered her to go back to their place, Leslie snatched her hand away and her once calm expression turned to one of anger. “Do not touch me.”

Brown eyes watched as the other girl was grabbed, was told sweet whispers or unholy words -- Morgan didn’t know -- but whatever the case may be, those brown eyes rolled and initiated for her head to follow suit. “Damn it,” she hissed, not wanting to involve herself in the situation, but also finding it her duty to help another. It came natural. After closing the distance, a false smile was placed on her face as she stared at the vulgar individual holding the blonde. “The hell you doing with my girl?” Morgan bit, staring with a large air despite her smaller size.

Leslie smiled politely at the stranger who was trying to hit on her before spotting and making eye contact with someone she knew across the room. “Help me,” Leslie mouthed.

She only had to go to pick up her keys. That was it. Morgan knew that leaving them with her neighbour was the worst possible thing to do -- seeing as she was always coming in at odd times of the night, but now, as she saw the blonde looking at her with pleading eyes, she could only feel herself draining.

So…please?

I, uh.. I... Guess.

Darn. I thought I was so close to making it happen.

I’m kidding. I was.

“Sounds fun, I do love corn. I wouldn’t mind to go to a fair like that some time. But I can see why you chose to come to Halifax… It was your decision, right?”

No. Don’t. They’re stupid... Yes. I saw good reviews on the milk.

Oh my god. Is this you–joking?

Uh... No.

I swear to you I’m not. This is all real. I’m really asking you out.

Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the most kindhearted morally corrupt heathen here. Now give me that— You’re not allowed near power tools. 

Then if you’re morally corrupt, why are you taking it away.

“How exactly is one supposed to avoid their godfather who also happens to be their boss?”

Pretending to die?

“Yeah, that’d be me. And who might you be?”

Eh... Let them. I’m from Iowa. One of those middle America states with fairs revolving around... Corn. I’m Morgan.

“Go, go do it. I think Halifax people might be a little on the weird side, but definitely not callous. We’re kinda passionate about seafood and sports, but if you don’t touch those topics I’m sure no one will hate you. I’m Matt, by the way…so how long have you been here?”

Matt... Well.. Neither appeal to me, so looks like I’m even more screwed. Someone of my... One month or so venture isn’t going to look good at all. Boo.

What don’t you know?

If you’re lying or not.