#piuxfabula

[ text to ‘mr. mccall’ ] oooh. what else? [ text ] and would this be in your office, the club, a private booth, or at your house? or all four areas more than once?

@piuxfabula || Florence + the machine

" you said it didn't hurt all. " -jax &&. mercy

      𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇. She’s poking and prodding at the fresh wound. An attempt to sew it, take care of it so that it doesn’t become worse or infected. The pain of a flesh wound wasn’t anything knew to Whitaker, not after his time in Iraq. He still carried the scars of his past, and only remained to continue adding more as they traveled through a god forsaken wasteland overcome by walking corpses. “    It didn’t until you started stabbin’ at it .....Holy shit.” He complains, wincing through each prick and pull through open flesh.

Pace: You know the frosting is for the cake, not for you to eat with a spoon…Clari: What are you the fucking police?

Desmond: Thanks for coming, Clarissa. I’m so glad you’re here to support me.Clarissa: No problem, always here to help out a friend!Desmond: And thanks for coming too, Mal, even though I specifically told you not to.Mal: My pleasure.

Mal: Few teens out there probably smoking a few funny cigarettes.Eliza: You can say weed. It’s 2019.Mal: Some grass.

Clari: I’m sorry I’m late. I saw a picture of the sun wearing sunglasses and spent the next four hours wondering what the fuck he was protecting his eyes from.

How long has it been since Max has seen another person? He’s good at keeping away from others unless he needs to, but he’s also good at accidentally stumbling across people when he’d prefer isolation. The conundrum that comes with expansive deserts and pockets of civilization: he’ll always find one when he wants the other.

He has become accustomed to solitude, prefers it this way. Can’t hurt anyone. Can’t let anyone down. In the desert, it’s just Max and the basic instinct to survive. The sound of suppressed gunfire and the snap of a bullet barely missing the side of his head tells him that isolation isn’t an option right now. With a snap of his wrist, he pulls his pistol from the holster on his thigh and crouches low, firing two quick shots in the direction the other shot came from. The dunes are tall, and the heat coming from the sand obscures any shapes he might be able to make out on the horizon.