#placestorun

"hm?" well, shit. she hadn't even noticed. it wasn't often that spats in the third rail turned violent and lasted longer than forty five seconds -- ham usually made sure of that. smoky eyes flickered down to assess the damage before she wiped a bit of blood from off of her arm.

"oh, don't you worry -- i don't even think that's mine, sweetness. must be that gunner's. only a fool would try to pull a submachine gun on charlie. really, did he have a death wish? or just too much bourbon?" reaching for a rag now, blotting at the stranger's blood that now marred her skin.