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freaks-myword.livejournal.comYou know that nagging feeling that there's something you have to do? It's not like forgetting to turn the stove off or lock the door before you leave the house. It sucks a little less. It's like having a to-do list sitting on the kitchen table, and every time you walk through the room, you get a glimpse of that one little last item. Maybe tomorrow. Yeah, I'll do it tomorrow. And tomorrow turns into next Friday, and Friday turns into a new year resolution.
Talk to Party. She hadn't spoken with him much since his little extra bombing spree or his stint in jail. He probably wasn't too thrilled about her leaving him in the dust, but if she were to go back, she'd . . . probably do the same thing. She'd managed to go a couple decades without getting caught, and she wasn't about to start now. Maybe she'd have to give him a few pointers about doing the crime and not doing the time.
When she'd finally run out of excuses to avoid him, she sought him out on the tablet and made her away across the city. She could have called him, sure, but what fun would that be? So she dressed in black spandex, braided her hair down her back, and tracked him down to the center of the Taxon Forest. Thankfully, the trek was less Blair Witch than she thought, although she was relieved when she saw the back of his red-headed self.
He would be gathering fresh food in the dead of night. Probably thought he'd fly under the radar. His feet made rustling noises on the ground and she occasionally saw his eyes flash this way and that--likely for any followers. Gwen felt that slight rush of excitement--kind of what she felt before taking out an armed guard or taking that first step into freedom after stealing whatever juicy prize she'd been hired to snag--and made her way up a nearby tree just so she was almost right above him. She strapped herself in, tied the rope around the branch, and when Party Poison approached, she hung upside down and lowered herself like a spider in the darkness.
"Hey there, stranger. Long time, no chat."
Damn, she was good.
Talk to Party. She hadn't spoken with him much since his little extra bombing spree or his stint in jail. He probably wasn't too thrilled about her leaving him in the dust, but if she were to go back, she'd . . . probably do the same thing. She'd managed to go a couple decades without getting caught, and she wasn't about to start now. Maybe she'd have to give him a few pointers about doing the crime and not doing the time.
When she'd finally run out of excuses to avoid him, she sought him out on the tablet and made her away across the city. She could have called him, sure, but what fun would that be? So she dressed in black spandex, braided her hair down her back, and tracked him down to the center of the Taxon Forest. Thankfully, the trek was less Blair Witch than she thought, although she was relieved when she saw the back of his red-headed self.
He would be gathering fresh food in the dead of night. Probably thought he'd fly under the radar. His feet made rustling noises on the ground and she occasionally saw his eyes flash this way and that--likely for any followers. Gwen felt that slight rush of excitement--kind of what she felt before taking out an armed guard or taking that first step into freedom after stealing whatever juicy prize she'd been hired to snag--and made her way up a nearby tree just so she was almost right above him. She strapped herself in, tied the rope around the branch, and when Party Poison approached, she hung upside down and lowered herself like a spider in the darkness.
"Hey there, stranger. Long time, no chat."
Damn, she was good.
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