Big, Bad Things || Damon & Faith
@ricsidiotbestfriend
              Faith's not cutting a very imposing silhouette against the lights of the bus station behind her in the distance. The jacket she's wearing, it's too big and it smells like someone left it in a humidor for a year. She's exhausted, walking only because she has to get the hell out of there before someone figures out what happened and calls the cops.
     Still, just walking. Like running's too much and it is. At least she'll sleep tonight, in a place with a door. Bed. Maybe food in the fridge and, if she's lucky, something to wash it down with. She just wants to succumb to whatever's up with her, pass out and let the pain roll by.
         It's never that simple, though. Not when you are what Faith is. Creepy, twitchy little things live in the dark and when you give off Slayer vibes (and they sizzle off Faith's very being, distorting the area around her like the heat from a barbecue), they find you. She doesn't stop walking, though. Not even when she hears the scratch of expensive shoes on the sidewalk behind her.
