#ltghost

“you owe me nothing.”

"To you maybe." The German-Romanian countered, getting up and wiping off the dust and dirt from the ground. Rolling his shoulders back, he looked over at Ghost and made sure there was no glaringly obvious wounds as he did so. "You're welcome, by the way." Andrei grumbles out as he straightens out his shirt and finishes righting himself after nearly barreling over the man who was basically the same size as he was. In his mind, when the other man had helped him then Andrei had to return the favor. It was what he did, what he felt was right. He owed him that. It wasn't a bad thing, Andrei just hated to be in debt in that regard. Even if the other didn't feel like there was anything owed, it wasn't how he felt. "You seem fine, unless there's something I can't see then, we need to keep moving." He starts to walk ahead of Ghost. "Don't slow us down now."

“Fuckin’ hell. You call that a plan?”

There's a glare shot in the direction of the other, green gaze locking onto there's before he's sliding over the file to the figure. "If you don't like it then you try to come up with something else, hm?" There's attitude to his words, leading his own men wasn't an issue as they trusted him and they in turn would get shit done. However, he knew there wasn't much built between the two of them. If he wanted to try and come up with something on his own or tweak the plan that Andrei had come up with then so bit. If it was worse, then he would be completely ready to let him know but seeing as he hadn't said a word before..."I didn't hear you start to say anything before that, so go ahead. Speak up, what brilliant plan do you have?" He motions for him to go ahead before standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest.

“who did this to you?”

Normally he didn't have any issues on any assignment, that wasn't who he was and wasn't what he was trained for. Andrei was molded and made into a loyal and deadly soldier, built to be unbeatable and he was. Even as he sat here now he hadn't lost, but he could have looked worlds better. But he hadn't exactly made his way to wash up until he knew everyone was gone, or at least thought he was alone. His back tenses, not even looking up at the source of the voice. His jaw flexes as his head turns to the side as he thinks of what to say before slowly lifting his head up to meet the man's gaze. "What does it matter?" Andrei replies, almost an indicator that he wasn't about to just unload onto the other. "It's not a big deal, they look worse. I handled it." Shutting it down quickly, playing it off like it didn't matter, it was something he was so easily able to do that it was scary.

0 0 .       @ltghost​ . .     kenny . .     ⧽  ° ✽ ｡  ⧼

                    YOUR   FACE   OF   AN   ANGEL’S   MEMORY  ,                    you  as  the  soundless  voice  of  this  thing  without  being ,   this  light  within  the  receding  darkness .     blink ,   +   the  red  lips  of  a  cherub  is  absent  flesh .     though ,   her  eyes  are  the  remnants  of  this  divine  glow  all  but  choosing .     this  thing  you  touch ,   this  thing  you  say  to  calm  the  tinted  pinks  of  sorrow .          “   i  know  this  really  good  place  ;     you  should  come  with  me -----     +   i   KNOW   that  we  look  like  bird  nest  babies ,   but  everyone  can  deal  with  it ,   right  ?   ”          the  mouth  of  her  smile  mistaken  for  fairies ,   the  hum  of  gold  halos  her  speech ,   gold  flakes  at  her  skin  like  the  shedding  of  felines .

0 0 .       @ltghost​​ . .     jolene . .     ⧽  ° ✽ ｡  ⧼

                    JOLENE   HAS   BETTER   DAYS   :                    those   are   the   days   she   goes   without   speaking   to   her   father .     playing  to  humor ,   their  thriving  landscapes  are  silence   +   meaningless  banter ,   words  that  never  come   or  words  that  sink  shallow .     she’s  raised  in  the  graveyard  of  his  loves ,   the  yearning  that  never  fades ,   the  affection  he  never  quite  places  so  stable   ---------          he  chokes  on  the  ghost  of  his  father ,   +   jolene  chokes  on  the  ghost  of   a   mother   or   woman   she’s  never  truly  known ,   save  for  her  quiet  disdain  that  placed  her  at  her  father’s  doorstep .     her  father  wouldn’t  know  this  well ,   but  he  knows  the  tired  grief  of  his  dead  father  like  the  back  of  his  hand ,   +   jolene  could  shoot  darts  to  grasp  at  the  grief  of  her  mother .     it’s  all  hands   +   teeth ,   broken  skin  that  patches  in  weird  places ,   bones  that  heal  wrong  in  every  fragment .     she  wonders  if  her  rage  is  inherited  from  her  father’s  or  inherited  from  the  lack  of  her  mother  ;     we  all  have  vacant  closets  with  imagined  ghosts .          “   god ,   i  could  use  another  shot .   ”