We were supposed to be just friends
Depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship I'm in
Depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship I'm in
Paige, for all intents and purposes, wasn't a particularly violent person. No, she usually preferred to rely on her cunning and smooth talking in most situations. Except for when that didn't seem to be an option. Like now. What was she supposed to do with a stranger stumbling into her place of operations that she did her best to keep secret. Certainly not smile and carry on a friendly conversation. Absolutely not.
Even still, her interest is piqued as his words reach her, breathless and tinged with fear. She draws a breath, scenting the alcohol and salt on him, a tinge of blood mixed in with the scent. Her nose wrinkles and her grip loosens only slightly. Though the kiss of the blade doesn't leave his throat. Not yet.
"And what exactly do you have?" Paige murmurs, not intimidated by his taller stature. He couldn't weigh more than one hundred pounds soaking wet. Not that she was much better. Still, she had the knife and he didn't.
With all the grace of a tide jaguar, Paige inches around the front of him only slightly, still mostly pressed to his back. However, she can finally get a look at him and her brows raise, his features are startlingly familiar and she can't exactly place why. There is a scratching at the back of her brain, some memory she can't recall of when she used to live with her mother at the brothel. "What's your name?"
Even still, her interest is piqued as his words reach her, breathless and tinged with fear. She draws a breath, scenting the alcohol and salt on him, a tinge of blood mixed in with the scent. Her nose wrinkles and her grip loosens only slightly. Though the kiss of the blade doesn't leave his throat. Not yet.
"And what exactly do you have?" Paige murmurs, not intimidated by his taller stature. He couldn't weigh more than one hundred pounds soaking wet. Not that she was much better. Still, she had the knife and he didn't.
With all the grace of a tide jaguar, Paige inches around the front of him only slightly, still mostly pressed to his back. However, she can finally get a look at him and her brows raise, his features are startlingly familiar and she can't exactly place why. There is a scratching at the back of her brain, some memory she can't recall of when she used to live with her mother at the brothel. "What's your name?"
paige
