You do what you gotta do to keep on keeping on. This phrase is a key tenet to Lia's worldview, and as such, she sticks to it pretty much a hundred percent of the time
( Read more... )
She cocks her head to the side at the sound of the bottle going before kicking again at the door again. Shrugging her shoulders to readjust the duffel bag on her back, she blows a stray bit of hair out of her eyes.
"Then s'probably a good thing I'm not packing Mr. Clean, huh," Lia calls out, hands shoved deep in her pockets. "Now, could stand to stick around out here a bit longer, yell some more, but pretty sure it'd up your sketch factor by at least fifteen points or so. Possibly more."
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she cranes her neck around to take in the whole set up. For some reason, she'd thought that being a Fed and all officially employed? Would allow somebody a much more decent set of digs than this. Huh.
For a second, he goes very very still. And then he's up and across the room with speed that's startling enough to give him pause before opening the door.
He's forty years old. He's on the decline, his quickness trained and his survival as much instinct and timing as speed. He knows that, and he's made his peace with it, so moving like he's just twenty and fresh from Glynco makes his skin crawl.
Raylan yanks the door open, staring down at Lia with a look of mixed anger and perplexity. "The hell are you doing here."
Lia tips her chin up to get a look at him and for a minute, and the snarky smile she'd prepped for this falters under that glare. Her head hunkers down a smidge, and her shoulders go up a bit - but she turns it into a shrug.
"Kicking at your door, duh," she says with forced nonchalance. "What are ya, going deaf in your old age?" A sniff makes her wrinkle her nose at all the stale smells popping out of there. Then she forces herself up straight and crosses her arms. "So you gonna let me in or what."
Comments 256
Reply
"Then s'probably a good thing I'm not packing Mr. Clean, huh," Lia calls out, hands shoved deep in her pockets. "Now, could stand to stick around out here a bit longer, yell some more, but pretty sure it'd up your sketch factor by at least fifteen points or so. Possibly more."
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she cranes her neck around to take in the whole set up. For some reason, she'd thought that being a Fed and all officially employed? Would allow somebody a much more decent set of digs than this. Huh.
Reply
He's forty years old. He's on the decline, his quickness trained and his survival as much instinct and timing as speed. He knows that, and he's made his peace with it, so moving like he's just twenty and fresh from Glynco makes his skin crawl.
Raylan yanks the door open, staring down at Lia with a look of mixed anger and perplexity. "The hell are you doing here."
Reply
"Kicking at your door, duh," she says with forced nonchalance. "What are ya, going deaf in your old age?" A sniff makes her wrinkle her nose at all the stale smells popping out of there. Then she forces herself up straight and crosses her arms. "So you gonna let me in or what."
Reply
Leave a comment