#str1p

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★ 𝄃 𝄃 𝄂 𝄂 𝄃 ⌗ 𝓒AT ( @str1p ) SAYS !! ❛ what in the hell are you doing all the way out — here this late at night ? ❜

𝓝OSE scrunches in displeasure at cat's tone. she's well past tipsy, that much is obvious. ❛ — missed my bus, ❜ juni grumbles, pulling fur jacket a little tighter to her form. it's not cold, but she feels a bit too exposed out here — & the tear streaks painting her rosy cheeks don't help. ❛ what are YOU doing here ? ❜ countered quickly, as though she isn't extremely grateful for cat's unexpected presence. the streets are dark, & every shadow is reminiscent of a menacing face. in a nervous tic, vape is brought to juni's mouth; pale smoke drifting from glossed lips — upwards & AWAY from the pair of girls.

[ 📲 text: ] you know i've always hated surprises. [ 📲 text: ] which means this one has to be damn good one if i'm gonna like it. [ 📲 text: ] swing by my place this evening? surprise me?

jordan reads the message and immediately he lights up, because he's quite certain that a message like this means they are on again. how long this good period will last, he doesn't know, but he intends to enjoy it for as long as it will last between the two of them. smiling softly, he responds to her message almost immediately. no need to pretend that he wasn't overly excited to have cat back in his orbit again.

her  voice  is  angelic:  melodic  and  sweet,  just  as  he  envisioned  it  would  be.  he's  had  too  much  time  on  his  blood  -  stained  hands  lately,  and  she's  become  his  new  hobby.  day  and  night,  she  consumes  his  one  -  track  mind.  now,  here  @str1p  stands,  in  the  dead  of  night  with  a  fruity  fuckin'  vape  pen  clutched  like  a  lifeline  between  her  dainty  fingers.  like  a  curious  mutt,  his  head  tilts.  he  closely  studies  the  way  glossy  lips  curl  around  the  pen,  and  takes  in  the  new  color  she  sports  on  freshly  -  manicured  nails.

"no."  reply  is  blunt,  quiet,  low  beneath  the  distant  thrum  of  heavy  music  that  lies  beyond  the  door  she  stands  by.  for  a  few  heavy  beats,  pope  leaves  it  at  that.  unsettlingly  and  unwaveringly,  he  stares.  it's  what  he  does  best.  chin  tilts  upwards,  and  he  moves  an  inch  closer:  teetering  towards  invading  her  personal  space,  but  not  quite  pulling  the  trigger.

in  this  moment,  he's  extremely  aware  that  he  possesses  hands.  he  doesn't  like  that  he  possesses  hands,  because  what  is  he  supposed  to  do  with  them  right  now?  fingers  flex  and  relax,  flex  and  relax,  flex  and  relax  .  .  .  finally,  he  settles  on  burying  them  within  the  pockets  of  his  worn  jeans.  "i  know  you  can  handle  yourself,"  he  confirms,  brow  twitching  in  a  faint  display  of  barely  -  there  bewilderment  in  response  to  the  casual  nickname  she  lays  on  him.  "doesn't  mean  you  have  to."  that's  what  he's  here  for.  pope  isn't  a  hero  or  a  saint  by  any  means,  but  he's  above  the  class  of  scum  that  gets  too  handsy  with  strippers.

let me talk to this fucking guy for a second. / @str1p