#ormondison

it's a statement. like he's just saying it. affirming. and it maybe should make her feel something other than endeared. like he's a plushie and she wants to dig her teeth in rip out the stuffing. frank morrison is interesting, new but not shiny, so not shiny that's the best part. frank morrison is also tragically right.

"no. i don't." admitting some sort of defeat. blue eyes on him she tilts her head. "i guess i'm kinda into that. a little." she looks away, she's anything but shy. keep her secrets, playing some sort of game. it feels like frank knows it already. "-tell me, ever met anyone else like me?" she thinks she knows the answer, it's like she can see it. the road ahead, a tiny little red string. the kind of string you trip on. get all tangled up. the kind you can choke on.

first rule of stalking. do it alone. second rule of stalking. shut your fucking mouth. he sighs, like the energy is leaving his body through it. he turns, still crouched, slowly, staring at the stupid kid. frank. this one, this dumbass is frank.

"old school?" when danny was a teenager, he wasn't very good with other teenagers. too much, too mature for his age. all he could see were slabs of meat waiting to be diced and sliced. the pretending to be nice and friendly came way after high school, when he figured out the whole act. that being said, he doesn't understand why She would want brats roaming around freely without a fucking leash. "-are you even hearing yourself?" voice modulator makes his voice sound a certain way.

"well, kid. some of us do more than just swing our little knives around." they're far away from camp, he thinks She must have let the little rat loose, slipped between realms. his problem now. oh. okay. danny hasn't picked someone to watch for the night. "-there's more to this than just gutting someone open."