soft tired prompts - accepting !

✞   “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐩?” He blurted out. “Together?”

He realized how inexperienced and, embarrassingly, 𝐩𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐡 that made him sound, so Quentin quickly amended:

“I mean, after all of 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.”

✞   “𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐎𝐡, 𝐮𝐡–”

He rolled over, looking up at Nancy’s pale, oval face. His own moon in the night sky. Her eyes glittered under the dim lights of his room–she was monochromatic and lovely in his crumpled blue bedroom. They floated together, over his bed, smelling of fresh laundry and generic shampoo. He flushed, slightly, just a small stain of red on the ears and nose.

   “Guess I can’t say no to 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, huh?”

Her hair slips through his fingers like fine oil. Slick, shiny, smooth. Her pearled face drifted close, mouth shaped like she just finished reciting a poem. Quentin had to smile, and it was most definitely more 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 than anything actually sexy.

But that was him not caring, because Nancy was a quiet portrait of artistry and kindness. Mysterious girl with thin, white wrists, hands soft in his own dry ones. A dream girl, if he ever allowed himself to approach the word 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 in a positive context. They kissed as soft as her voice, and Quentin was looking to covet, not steal it.

❝ che ? ------ ajay do you copy ? ❞ words are spoken over comms, though no response is given ( or at least not one that she can hear between the chaos raining down upon their location ). they’d been SEPARATED by a bombardment and varying types of gunfire as numerous squads all met up in once space between narrow canyon way; the both of them having ( seemingly ) parted ways for the time being. in truth they could both handle themselves, they both had combat training ( even before having joined the games ) --- taking down entire squads alone due to circumstances as the current weren’t uncommon place for them, nor were it impossible.. but this was more than simply one or two addition squads here ( no, this was more like five or six all conjoined into one place, fighting it out ).

smoke grenade having been dropped at her feet to make for cover for her escape, she’s willing to take her chances with the possible straggler having the same idea of trying to avoid playing the seventh party, than fight her way through to sooner reunite with lifeline ( and risk getting downed and out in the process ). and so long trek around mountainous cliff is begun ( and as she’d expected, others had similar ideas to her own; the encounters leaving her with fewer bullets and even fewer meds and shields ).

❝ ajay, if you can hear me, meet up with me at repulsor--- ❞ a long distance to travel from her spot just outside of water treatment, but at least it seemed QUIETER up there than it did here..

it’d been a good several minutes since she’d reached point of interest ( having had plenty of time to resupply herself with what scraps they around from previous teams looting the place ), but all was quiet as she’d assumed --------- or at least things were, until she’d heard two sets of footsteps coming her way. unholstering wingman from her hip, she waits with back pressed to wall of building for them to grow closer; only stepping out once they sounded only several feet away and taking a shot ( only for a barrage of gunfire to finish the job from a gun that was not her own, her gaze drifting up to its place of origin ).

❝ --------- not bad, shooter. ❞ look of temporary confusion is quickly replaced with that of relief in finding squadmate being the source of aid. concerns are spoken by her, and anita can’t help the small smile that pulls at the corners of plush lips. ❝ i’m alright. had a couple of rough moments in between here and there, but its nothing i couldn’t take care of------ woulda been easier with you around though. ❞

* non-verbal starters - accepting !

   “𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬!”

Sally’s skates swing back and forth over the checkered linoleum, squeaking like a cheap pendulum. She had rolled in–for the was no sign that said ‘𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝’–and asked for the cutest waitress. Bailey was a familiar but distant face that Sally fitted into her rather large box of ‘𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞’.

Black nails and Hello Kitty band-aids wiggle at Bailey, and Sally swings her weighted legs back under the table. They clatter against the metal of the booth, but she readjusts them quickly. She resumes their rolling over the floor, but now in quicker, smaller strokes, due to the limited space.

   “Been a hot minute since I’ve seen some sunshine,” she grins. Her black lipstick had smeared a bit over her teeth. “Last time I saw you was at 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧, yeah?”

Sally preferred the use of lies and exaggerations, misdirection and twisted sentences to dump out her everyday news. It was more fun that way, not finishing her thoughts and impatiently offering 𝐩𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐬 instead. She had skipped school for the past week, and as she also shared no classes with Bailey, it adjoined into being three weeks until Bailey’s name or face ever came up. That was enough of a shuffle for Sally to forget about the diner and Bailey’s day-job.

(Sure, there were 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬, but Sally’s phone was currently cracked and duct-taped under her glove box. A prank from Jude that wasn’t even the main reason why all her texts have gone unanswered.)

Grilled cheese is placed on the table in between Sally’s stretched out, paralleled arms, and she snatches a couple sugar packets from the table’s basket. Perhaps, now closer and in the fluorescent lights, Bailey can see the sweat-streaked mascara and eyeliner, the faded 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 of Sally’s lipstick as it was smudged, wiped off, then reapplied in the span of only a few seconds in the dark. Sally had gone somewhere within the cracks of the town, and came to the diner secretly victorious.