little red, little red.

          ‘  ---  WHAT face?  ‘   that one.  

          the hunter flips off her hood,  blowing a few loose hairs out of her face while she’s at it.  she’s new to the idea of someone openly admitting to being a  flirt,  but she respects someone who can be honest.  the aforementioned hand rests at her hip & she leans into it.   ‘  i guess it doesn’t,  ‘   she says,  grateful to have been given the option.   ‘  so,  you got a name,  man?   mine’s red.  ‘   or technically,  it is.

          ‘  look,  i’m doing my best,  all right?!  it ain’t like this is what i was BUILT for,  ‘   she complains in turn,  holding the remains of a burnt to the point of being unrecognizable,  cake,  she baked herself.  the kitchen is a mess,  seems like there WAS a fire,  before red put it out.   ‘  well,  try it at least.  it better be good or i’ll be pissed i wasted my time.  ‘

          she really rather not answer,  ashamed to show any form of weakness.   ‘  i - i - i - i’m f - fine,  ‘   she stutters out,  a redness in her cheeks shortly following.   ‘  for fuck’s sake.  ‘

          easy answer:   no,  she hadn’t.   ‘  what ... what would i read that for?  who cares what it says?  hah hah ...  ‘   now she’s anxious.  she wasn’t paying attention at all --- what the hell did it say?

          ‘  watch your mouth before i stuff my gun in it,  ‘   she replies,  voice devoid of emotion despite the aggressive nature of her statement.   ‘  i’m not in the mood for your fuckin’ ‘tude,  ma’am.  get the hell out of my way.  ‘

          ‘  i’m not,  ‘   is her answer.   she may be covered in blood,  but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s  hers.  she smudges the irony liquid off her mouth to continue,   ‘  i’d get outta here,  if i were you.  you ain’t safe.  ‘