❛  i  don’t  know  why  you  even  bother  listening  to  that  pig  of  a  man.  ❜      there’s  so  much  venom  behind  her  words,  the  tip  of  the  knife  that  finds  itself  clutched  in  her  hands  just  pressing  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  pad  of  her  thumb.  the  last  thing  that  anyone  had  needed  was  one  more  body  around  here,  especially  someone  that  she  could  barely  trust  and  had  been  brought  in  by  someone  she  certainly  didn’t  trust.       ❛  he  doesn’t  know  john’s  will,  doesn’t  know  what  john  expects  of  us.  all  he  does  is  carry  on,  finding  himself  to  be  above  me!  who  is  the  one  that’s  beside  john  day  and  night?  who  is  the  one  that  actually  gives  a  fuck,  because  news  flash,  it’s  not  that  piece  of  shit.  ❜

yes but you have to sit through the entirety of the dallas cowboys vs. giants with me and actually watch the game instead of checking me out the whole time before getting kissed on the forehead out of pure bro impulse when we win as i knock over the unfinished beer bottles accidentally in excitement

his expression first is just shocked, surprised. like he was seeing a ghost. but fast a smile spreads over his face, blue eyes wide with relief as he steps towards the other, hands cupping his face, pulling him close, kissing him.

                                ❝    i know you’re lonely  ...  like i am.    ❞

"that so?" camille intones into her glass of bourbon.

wakefield is a small, cozy place where everybody knows everybody — much like her wind gap. all fitting together like a too-tight sweater, stifling and itchy on her skin. outsiders are regarded with suspicion and hostility, subject to vicious gossip, especially when they mosey in with expectations of answers to private questions.

after all, no decent person would forget propriety like that.

so camille smiles charmingly when she sets her glass down on the countertop. loosens up her frame, uncrosses her legs, hand on her chin, feeling the liquid courage burn in her throat. although she has carried no signs of identification to her being press into this dive bar, she knows that whispers spread like wildfire in a place like wakefield, texas. if his claim is true, he already knows who she is.

" For the last time, Sally... You can't be my nurse. Okay, buddy? You're just not qualified. "

Richard leans over the sink, the crimson running off of his weathered stretched skin and down the drain. This guy's always trying to get something, eh? He can't fault him. He's on the grind or whatever the kids say nowadays...

@carrioncop​  :   im telling you now-- ive got plans that i cannot share with you right now, bc the haters will sabotage me

He’s  like  a  feral  dog  caught  at  the  end  of  an  alleyway...the  end  of  the  road,  this  guy.  He  can  foam  at  the  mouth  all  he  wants,  bark  up  a  storm...hell  he  can  even  bite  but  Richard’s  got  the  catch  pole.  He’s  ready  to  wrap  that  noose  around  the  guy’s  neck  and  squeeze...

                Rick’s  a  LEVEL  HEADED  professional,  obviously  but  this  mother  fucker  has  pushed,  and  pushed,  and  pushed,  and  PUSHED....  In  a  way,  he’s  gotta  hand  it  to  him.  It’s  difficult  to  bring  him  to  this  point.  No  patience.  In  fact,  he  almost  doesn’t  here  the  crazy  shit  his  little  runaway  patient  is  spouting  off.  “Yeah?  Well  we’ve  all  got  plans,  buddy.”  His  answer  is  lazy  as  he  approaches,  big  nasty  in  one  hand  and  nothing  in  the  other.  His  arms  are  spread  wide,  as  if  he  could  stop  the  guy  from  bolting  by  his  span  alone.  “Heh~guess  we’ve  all  got  HATERS  too,  eh?”  One  more  step  forward.