Date: 2015-03-16 02:09 am (UTC)
mortemscintilla: ∅ Until we close our eyes for good (Hei - Dead Eyes)
[ Hei blinks, but his smooth face shows no surprise. Or much of anything else. He knows she's itching for a fuck. Like a cat she's practically flushed with it, a sleek armful ready to rub against whatever is handy. That's not what bothers him. It's the tone just under her flippant invitation: words carrying other flavors of feeling that mix poorly and make in whole for an unpleasant taste: mockery, self-mockery, resentment, and underneath it all a basic unhappiness that tugs at Hei's dubious concern despite his resistance. ]

[ Is she deranged? Ready to fling herself at anything that is deadly and available -- explosions, blazing gunfire, sharp objects, infamous Contractors? She's aware of his reputation. He's notorious for never mixing business with pleasure. In the rare instances when he does, it's not a perk, or an indulgence. It's a performance, a smokescreen for the benefit of lulling his mark into trusting malleability. His sole purpose is to put the target at ease, far exceed their expectations -- then crack them open like a human vault for cash and information before discarding them. ]

[ Is that what she wants? To be used, dissected, then flung aside like butchered entrails? ]

[ Flatly, ]


I understand your default setting is bad decisions. But I'm not interested in being the latest.
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