“Some people think that I’m crazy, I’m just out here trying to have a good time, what’s your problem?”
A huff escaped the girl’s mouth as she did nothing to hide the eye roll she couldn’t help but give.
Really? He had the audacity to ask what her problem was when they were the ones running around, acting like lunatics?
“My problem is your reckless behavior is going to get us killed. This isn’t the time to be having a bit of fun-- we need to be serious about the issue at hand.”
“You don’t think I’m taking this seriously?! We didn’t even high five the last three kills!”
He’s got his left hand over some guy’s mouth, and his right hand on the handle of a very large, very ribbed combat blade; Boss promptly plunges all 9 inches of it into said homie’s neck. It sputters blood upwards in a teeny little fountain. Mmm, sexual. The Boss’ fingers seep a sticky sanguine, and once the body’s lifeless, he releases his grip. Thud.
Asha is a silent venom. She slithers into a room of twenty-one, runs a few hard wires across some necks, and it’s an empty room. Nice and easy; easy and quiet. The Boss? Not so much. A little boom boom here, a little slappity-slap there, some nutsack wreckage, and maybe a little hurricanranas for some added flair. And that’s just a Tuesday night. Needless to say, he and her are... just not on the same Myers-Briggs scale.
Somehow, Asha always ends up leading him when they’re together. He follows behind her like a cub, absorbing whatever teachings of stealth she can offer. That’s why he came along, no? Practice. And boredom...
“I saw you roll your eyes! That is just rude!”
