Where There's a Willa, There's a Way

“You see good in me, yeah?

When she didn’t jerk away, as he was so used to people doing in response to his leering, his eyebrows shot up. This seemed to be the only real indication he gave that he’d even noticed, however. Otherwise he remained silent, regarding her with a slight tilt of his head at her mocking imitation of a whine. Finally he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slowly.

❝Cute, girlie, real cute.❞ He drawled, reaching into one of his coat pockets and fishing out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed one of the smokes between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling the smoke through his nose. When she broke his own personal bubble and sidled up next to him, his eyes cut back over to her, finding her forwardness all too amusing.

God, this chick was either going to end up growing on him or setting his nerves on edge, he could already tell. That was an irritating thought, but he still found himself straightening up and jerking his head over towards one of the ticket booths, where his Triumph was parked.

Her gaze slid over him again now with a specific skill set; an inherent organization and categorizing that had been crooned over her from the  cradle. Families of thieves often forwent traditional lullabies in favor of educational layouts of ploys to perpetrate. As sudden as the slant of her silent inspection, it was effectively wiped clean and clear once more with the cock of his head, giving way to the ransacked shadow of a troubling grin. It was uninhibited and unscrupulous. She pushed up from the news stand, paying no heed to the hull of it, papered as it was with missing persons...so many criss-crossed and overlaid one to the other it presented like a Jackson Pollock. 

do i wanna know? // arctic monkeys