[crackle, thud, the thin skif of sandals spreading across gravel. then someone's knees fall to the ground. the violent sounds of someone thoroughly losing their breakfast hit the communicator around the same time the breakfast hits the street. slowly, she gets to her feet, and snorts, a small, nauseous quaver in the sharpness of her throat.]--
(
Read more... )
Comments 53
Reply
Reply
The blood-bomb guy hangin' around somewhere too?
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment