@climafroze ——— — unprompted .
smoke billows &. coils from the 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 of the junker’s hunched figure; he breathes low, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲, the trickle of rust—flavored ichor staining the cigarette hanging 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 from his maw. there’s an 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 surrounding him, eyes set on the horizon of gibraltar; until a stir behind jamison causes the 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭 to snap out of his trance.
“ eh? ” his prosthetic reaches for the cig in his lips, the 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦 of his other hand smudging the blood trailing from his nose ——— — a quirk of his brow signifying the start of his 𝘣𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, a short fuse being one of jamison’s shining virtues. “ what’dya want? i’m fuckin’ busy. ”









