Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim
His words elicit a genuine laugh, something short and musical that fades into a fanged challenge. "I'd like to see you try to get me in that." As if he can't see the playful inferno in her eyes, she lets out a smokey breath of fire that wafts into the fading light above them. It's as much a way to warm herself as show off just how hard she'd make everyone's lives in the process. A veritable menace to society.
But her smirk faulters at the look on his face - barely noticeable but jarring all the same. Something in her chest stirs, a flutter that sends warning bells chiming through her mind. She searches his eyes for some hint that he's lying, that he's just saying what he thinks she wants to hear in such a soft tone. The silence stretches as she fails to find anything, her mind racing to justify the words with ulterior motives: sex, entertainment, thrill. There are plenty of plausible explanations for his answer, and she sharpens the softness that had inadvertently entered her eyes, slows the spike in her heartrate to something easier - safer. Since the moment she wound up alone on the beach, it has protected her, shielded her from threats, and it hasn't failed her yet.
Although it's hard to put up guards when Vesper gives her such 'flattering compliments.' Her smile widens, even as she's wants to balk at how "You barely know me." Yet it's almost funny in the absurdity, another low chuckle building in her throat. "Oh. You have no idea. This is me on a good day." Throwing commands aboard her ship? In the grips of bloodlust? The throughs of violent rage? This is tame in comparison and the dangerous glint in her eyes catch fire in the receding sunlight, seeming to ask, Think you can keep up?
But her smirk faulters at the look on his face - barely noticeable but jarring all the same. Something in her chest stirs, a flutter that sends warning bells chiming through her mind. She searches his eyes for some hint that he's lying, that he's just saying what he thinks she wants to hear in such a soft tone. The silence stretches as she fails to find anything, her mind racing to justify the words with ulterior motives: sex, entertainment, thrill. There are plenty of plausible explanations for his answer, and she sharpens the softness that had inadvertently entered her eyes, slows the spike in her heartrate to something easier - safer. Since the moment she wound up alone on the beach, it has protected her, shielded her from threats, and it hasn't failed her yet.
Although it's hard to put up guards when Vesper gives her such 'flattering compliments.' Her smile widens, even as she's wants to balk at how "You barely know me." Yet it's almost funny in the absurdity, another low chuckle building in her throat. "Oh. You have no idea. This is me on a good day." Throwing commands aboard her ship? In the grips of bloodlust? The throughs of violent rage? This is tame in comparison and the dangerous glint in her eyes catch fire in the receding sunlight, seeming to ask, Think you can keep up?
I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name
but everybody knows my name
Thalassa
