táifēng --> typhoon
xfreundlich;;
|| /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿—;; “Yo— Ya lost or somethin’?” a gruff voice inquired, briefly setting down her can of Heineken to quote-unquote properly address the individual. And damn, what a getup she had.
Definitely lost.
“Lagoon Company’s babysitter’s sleepin’ right now. Try some other sap.”
The demeanor of the next set of steps to shit on her lazy day parade weren’t lost on the gun for hire.
Those were the steps of authority.
It reminded her of Balalaika, the tough-as-nails former Paratrooper who now served as the head of the Russian mob. A wolf, she was; once someone was stuck in those maws, she rocked their fucking worlds. In this woman, with her sleek amethyst tresses and underlying scowl – it was a wolf, alright.
A slow, steady trail of smoke billowed from dry lips, a soft exhale following as deep puce hues darted upward, to the side; studying the new arrival. She had the eyes of a killer — the eyes of a soldier.
A grin danced on those very same lips; amusement was coming, for sure.
“What’s a chick like you doin’ on this side of town, huh? Need some dirty work off yer hands?”
“— Make it good or shove your own ass out the door.”
Yes, Dutch. Making Revy the obligatory door-greeter for the day was a wonderful idea. What the guy did on days like this, she had no idea; but shit, not like she wanted him or anyone else prying into her business. It was only businesslike to return the favor.
“I could do it for ya, but then you’d have to choose which asshole you wanna shit out of.”
Quite the charmer.
“– Eh?”
If those weren’t the heaviest fuckin’ footsteps she’d ever heard.
The brunette glanced up with distinct disinterest, one bare leg draped across the other as she bounced it to an unknown tune. Here she had been, reading about the newest vampire show on the cable they could hardly afford, and some twit had come prancing right on through.
Okay, prancing would be an exaggeration. But still.
“Who the fuck keeps leavin’ the goddamned door open?”
>> goddess-ilias ; just-another-wonderful-nancy ; prideful2ndchild ; mimicryminene
“— What the fuck? What’s with all the chicks? This better be fuckin’ good, ‘cause helpin’ seemingly innocent schoolgirls may be my partner’s thing – but it sure as hell ain’t mine.”
>> blackgrimoire
“Huh? What’s this look like to you, a fuckin’ motel?”
The hired gun glanced up from her ice cold Heineken, far from pleased to see some unknown – and strangely-dressed to boot – kid lingering in the hall. Then again, Black Lagoon’s newest headquarters were even shittier than the first; it was expensive, getting your base of operations blown to fuckin’ smithereens. For the time being, they were stuck in a shabby building with “free rent” – courtesy of Revy herself, and her handy dandy Cutlass.
A buck saved or gained was a mission successful in her book – no more, no less.
“Aren’t you burnin’ up in those clothes? Looks like you got off at the wrong bus stop, kid.”