sick girl.

      “    buy WHAT?  –    “

del knows exactly what it looks like. he could have easily cleared up the misunderstanding; of course, whether or not this woman would have believed him would be up to her, but del doesn’t want to. after all, it’s much more complicated to explain to this new woman that the woman who had just thrown a drink in his face was in fact, a KEY to the man he was trying to track down, and that the throwing of her drink in his face gave him exactly what he needed. — much too complicated to explain. so instead, he lets her think of him as a DOG, and del just gives her his boyish smile, nodding over to the bartender as he raises two fingers before turning his attention back to her.

“ i’m sure there are worse things to stink of. you seem like a bourbon sourt of girl. gin, maybe? “

his confidence is IMPRESSIVE, if a bit irritating, and she shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, amateur at not having the UPPER hand from the get-go. 

     ❝ WHISKEY, actually, yer deductin’         skills’re a bit awry. ❞

quick, satisfied smile, and she’s drumming her fingers against her chin, dark eyes darting around the other customers, paranoia setting in.

      ❝ —— ye dropped this, pal. ❞

a broad grin appears as he wipes the drink splatter off of his face. “and you’re absolutely correct. that wasn’t the first, and it certainly won’t be the last.” a pause as he straightens out his blazer and glances over at her.

“can i buy you a drink?”

his question THROWS her slightly —— never is a man this FORWARD, not unless he’s being vulgar about the situation. still, she keeps herself in check, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing him up and down, mind whirring desperately for something clever to put him in his place. ALAS. 

sickisms | liked this for a starter

                               ❝ I’M VERY sorry, but could you repeat that? ❞

    ❝ ah’ SAID, get outta mah fuckin’ WAY,        girlie !! what’s it, now ah need a personal        translator wherever ah choose t’ go ??  ❞

      ❝ well —- guess it’s like they say… ‘it’s always five           o’clock somewhere’. whether AM, PM, i find i’m           becoming less and less picky. ’m more of a…           ‘carpe diem’ kinda guy. ❞

says the serial killer…          

          his smirk is now enabled by the highlights of           approval in her visage. she seems adventurous,           more than willing to breach her comfort zone           — an area where brian finds he is exceptionally           adept! of course, as usual, he is always            willing to accommodate where a counterpart’s            agenda falls short!

      ❝ i gotta tell ya, that proposition puts me in quite an            awkward position. a perfect stranger and an open            tab — hardly ever a recipe for success. and while            i’m typically all but gung ho about being lead            down the primrose path, i find i’m a little more            than willing to take my chances this time so long            as the next one’s on me. ❞

          a precise sweep of his hand toward the threshold           of the door gestures for her to proceed, to leave             him skulking in pursuit — a position with which             he is more than just familiar.

          ❝ lead the way. ❞

next one. NEXT ONE !! the queen of one night stands feels herself toppling from her tower. a promise of a next time is not something the WAYWARD girl is all too familiar with, but today, in that very moment, she feels as if ‘the next one’ will be something to look forward to INDEED. 

          although she trudges into the foyer of the           pub in dirty, age-old boots, in her mind           she struts with all the allure of a stripper           in six-inch stilettos, and she           PIROUETTES  just before she gets to the           bar to ensure her counterpart was following           —— and WATCHING. 

                  ❝ what are we havin’ ??  ❞