said i was the best simultaneously the worst
She doesn’t know what it was, but given the explanation of what she’d asked for, Thorn’s fairly confident that’s what the drug was they gave her. So, perhaps it’s a bit sheepish of him, but he hums a little thoughtfully as he counts and they continue their swings to tear out the island. “If y’want more, I’ve got a stock of ‘em.” He suggests. It was a popular choice for those in the House of Midnight, and while Thorn had a strict don’t be drunk or high while working policy, it didn’t mean he didn’t partake in them when he wasn’t working.
He draws silent though, counting while they swing and lets her explain. Each thwack feels like a death sentence to this memory for her, though, and as she paints the picture he starts to wince and wrinkle his nose. “Shit, what?” He mutters, huffing a little sound. But it’s when she tells him that it was because she didn’t thank him for getting her off that Thorn waits until after she explains the situation before he lets the bright laugh leave him, looking up at her to catch her eye.
“Y’know how many people never thank me for gettin’ em off?” A fucking lot, to be honest. But he supposes that’s part of his job. He’s a method to an outcome, nothing much more than a tool. But it does make it easier to disconnect – to put on facades and masks to be whomever they needed him to be at the time, regardless of whether or not he got a thank you after. People often paid beforehand anyway, so it wasn’t like the payment was as much of a thank you after the fact.
He sighs and nods, thwacking the island again with his sledgehammer and draws back, the chains that dangle from the heartshaped glasses moving with the motion as he looks at her again. “I also didn’t know a festival was goin’. Maybe we should check next time we decide t’be spontaneous, huh?” Prevent all those little shitty things from happening. "That's real fuckin' shitty though, Colt. Shitty excuses too, to be honest. Though it ain't like I've got experience in that." He shrugs, the sledgehammer bouncing with the movement from his shoulder.
He draws silent though, counting while they swing and lets her explain. Each thwack feels like a death sentence to this memory for her, though, and as she paints the picture he starts to wince and wrinkle his nose. “Shit, what?” He mutters, huffing a little sound. But it’s when she tells him that it was because she didn’t thank him for getting her off that Thorn waits until after she explains the situation before he lets the bright laugh leave him, looking up at her to catch her eye.
“Y’know how many people never thank me for gettin’ em off?” A fucking lot, to be honest. But he supposes that’s part of his job. He’s a method to an outcome, nothing much more than a tool. But it does make it easier to disconnect – to put on facades and masks to be whomever they needed him to be at the time, regardless of whether or not he got a thank you after. People often paid beforehand anyway, so it wasn’t like the payment was as much of a thank you after the fact.
He sighs and nods, thwacking the island again with his sledgehammer and draws back, the chains that dangle from the heartshaped glasses moving with the motion as he looks at her again. “I also didn’t know a festival was goin’. Maybe we should check next time we decide t’be spontaneous, huh?” Prevent all those little shitty things from happening. "That's real fuckin' shitty though, Colt. Shitty excuses too, to be honest. Though it ain't like I've got experience in that." He shrugs, the sledgehammer bouncing with the movement from his shoulder.
Hawthorn
and best case scenario, i should be cursed
