#hoxrdan

         Drinking alone in the park at night is not usually one of Michael’s favorite pastimes, but it easily becomes one when a job’s gone so far south in the pregame stage that there’s absolutely no salvaging it. The rest of the crew’s likely holed up in their respective apartments, but Michael always found it easier to squeeze his ass into this child’s swing and think for a while under the streetlamps in disrepair. Nobody’s out here at two in the morning anyway, and maybe it’s that almost eerie quiet that appeals to him. A second bottle, drained, falls into the wood-chips at his feet and clinks against the first. 

         He notices the scuffle of footsteps before he can make out the shape out in the darkness. At first he thinks it’s a cop come to shoo him from the park or cuff him for public intoxication, but... that’s not a cop. No glint of a badge or cuffs or any distant red and blue lights waving him in. No, it looks like just some other sorry shit loitering in the park, like him. Soaking up the graveyard hours, probably.

         the soft sound of rain surrounded him, but he ignored it. he was lucky to have found one of those markets where they have a little tarp above some benches outside. his head dropped down, his body tired from all the walking he’s done throughout the day. from the corner of his eye he could see people leave the market, and he hoped that none of them would come up to him and ask for him to leave, because at the moment that was all he needed to last the night ( and possibly the morning depending on when the rain stopped ). 

feel better mom <3

you’re not insane like me &&. jordan.