“ are we good to go ? ” ╰ @b4rbieroberts
the loud slurp of a water down cherry coke, followed by the sound of paper shuffling. pitstops aren’t typically on the agenda, especially when there’s an agent watching the clock ... but this one’s an exception. lips part as frida whispers to herself she’s counting a wad of cash, hundreds all banded up, crisp and clean. face up, flashing franklins and a few mckinleys ... she hasn’t seen mckinley’s stupid face in a while, but she welcomes it all the same. stone faced, unbothered, until boney tattooed fingers reach for the shifter.
“ yeah, yeah … didn’t mean to hold you up, ” half-mumbled, sentence trailing off. frida hopes that this won’t be a problem if it becomes a problem, she can find ways to mitigate it. whatever. we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. silver range rover backs out of the rain-soaked ally, leaving behind the big metal backdoor of a nondescript brick building. frida scampered out like nothing, slamming it behind her, dragging on a cigarette. calm, cool, itching for payment. nose crinkles. frida attempts to exhale the cold scent of a meat locker. not picky, sure, but the meeting spot could be a lot better. she turns, looking at the backseat passenger princess : “ where to next, barbie ??? ”
