#m;river

“for the record, i think all of this is fucking bullshit, but what do i know, right?”

drinking ice coffee is near impossible when everything she touches is set on fire, and river knows this, and yet. her temper flares when she takes the first sip of a brand new drink and it’s already melted and watered down. fire covers her skin, plastic to go cup melting in her hand and spilling lukewarm coffee all over her and the person at the next table. and she should feel bad about that, except river just gives a noise of exasperation, exclaiming loudly, “who even uses plastic anymore?!”

river arches a brow, popping a fry into her mouth. “sounds like a therapist’s wet dream,” she hums, frowning slightly at the burnt taste her fingers leave on the junk food. “i don’t hold grudges. if you do something to me, you feel it.”

yeah, okay, whatever, she’s hungover as fuck and remembers nothing of the night prior. sunglasses on, her usual black attire covering her skin, river just gives a fake smile. “what can i say, i got a nice ass.” all she can hope is that her idiocy didn’t catch anything on fire -- she really should stop being reckless in her current condition, but it’s precisely the fact she’s has her current condition that has her reckless. no win. oh well.

river just snorts. “ya think?” she gives the girl a once over before shrugging. “dunno, i might take the trophy on that one.” she gives a little shimmy of her shoulders to emphasize her point. not that river would ever pole dance, but she’s not going to say that. 

(txt: fi)  all i remember about last night is holding a bottle of bacardi and screaming challenge accepted!