β
β or, i'll do it myself. β hand reaching down to pull out her pistol; silencer attached to the end of the barrel. she ... preferred to use a sniper rifle but, having projectile manipulation kind of has its perks.
β
β
β β β β
it was late, cold and damp. she hated night missions, it was such a drag. she could be at home, drinking a full bottle of sake right now-β but instead, she's stuck here listening to her partner gag and heave.
β β β β
ββ
the needed resources from his internal inventory but now . . .
he found himself πneasy.
β β β β β β β H β Hold o β on . . . ππΆπ’β ππΆπ’β *Ν π§. β
β
head leaned in; still trying the best she possibly can not the scream in his face with pure aggression. β if 'ya can't handle this kind of shit, then i don't know why 'ya agreed to come. get y'er head outta y'er ass. β
β
β
β β β β
β c'mon, y'er actin' like i'm askin' for more here. just a peck. β gloved digits reach forward to wrap around his tie; softly yanking him down a tad bit more. another giggle spewing from scarred lips.
β β β β
β
β what? is it that obvious? -β β completely oblivious of the fact that she does indeed reek of alcohol &&* that her whole personality practically shifts once liquor hits her system.
β
β ... when you're intoxicated. β Mainly because he can't believe that (he) of all people got stopped around here. A passive tail sway, eyes gazing up at the mistletoe once more.