Dec 30, 2017
@miseriiae liked for a starter.
“You don’t think we’re friends?” If she hadn’t had such a shit-eating smirk, anyone might have thought she was serious. She twisted in her seat to glance into the back of the van and, undisturbed by the swaying of the vehicle, unclipped her seatbelt to climb in back.
Her voice rose. “If I see any of you touch a dollar I will personally remove your fingers, got it?” Money, piles of it, spilling out of duffel bags across the floor and the feet of the goons sitting there. After a moment, she reappeared; leaning forward to prop herself up over the side of the driver’s seat, she watched Waylon with her head turned almost sideways.
“I think we’re friends,” she said, and flashed him an all-teeth smile.
