The answerās hazy like the smoke he exhales, got him wondering what had to go south to land him in the back of a Jeep while his way out getās her rocks off. In all fairness, her nonchalance is almost as cathartic as this nicotine, and even if heās looking every-which-way but there he kinda likes the way she walks as if she's rushing to meet death and daring life to trail behind all the same.
You could say heās grown accustomed to coming in on the reciprocal end of carnage, turning unsalvageable bodies back into instruments of survival in an environment that wanted nothing more than to see someone dead. He can picture the mayhem anatomically correct while he pulls at his nose peircing with the kind of lazy preoccupation of a kid who's not completely there.
Ashās probably got his gun to someoneās neck, the threat just as real as any catastrophic CNS damage; doesnāt doubt that Alexieās actually showing someone what words are worth. Swears he can feel the stippling of unburnt gunpowder singeing the entrance wound black as a bullet crushes any tissue in itās path and shreds vessels until it punches through some poor tellerās occipital in itās final act of sin. Paintās the floor like a cheap Seurat piece, reduces miniscule resistance to common spite that sits heavy in the chest, easily displacing whatever baggage occupied that place moments prior.
Hm, he canāt remember the last time that kind of ruination flooded his veins, but that could just be the fact that his worst decisions coasted on the back of too much liquor and a hype man or two. The safety blanket known as watching from a distance spares him from that malady known as invincible aggression, voraciousness, a malignancy spurred on by the scent of blood and hyped by wounds and fanned by murder -- a shiver that twists and works its way through the nerves until itās lodged itself in the psyche as neatly as a parasite really could.
Canāt say he never tried. Tried to tap into some of that aimless dissatisfaction with everything and everyone that has you convinced the human heart canāt possibly beat four thousand times per hour unless youāre there with the carving knife and sixty minutes to kill -- gotta see it for yourself. Take each struggling beat as a souvenir. Still, it didnāt take long for him to realise what he thought was light was merely the radiance refracted off the broken glass beneath his feet. A busted window posing as the The Skylight just 'cause the light hit it right.
Nah, nothing malicious really stirs in him.
But money is money, and if the gang is his affliction then heās clearly jaded to the fact.
Just when he thinks itās taking too long they get the call and Bambiās maneuvering through the labyrinth of a city with that ardent kind of charm and even if his muscles are coiled in anticipation, hands green to go as if he had a piece to reach for, heās never quite sure whether or not itās anxiety or excitement that settles into the pit of his stomach. Thereās really no reason to worry. When youāve been cut a thousand times those new wounds donāt do very much, and if anyoneās immune he knows itās this crew, but when he finally registers gunshots like that exasperating noise in the back of a room, sirens cutting through the air, he really canāt stop his mind from wondering.
Even normal people carry guns nowadays.
Quin pops in first and the way she presses up against Bambi tells him he wonāt be putting sutures to skin, the remnants of a life undone covering Alexie makes it worse, and while heād never want anything to happen to his friends he canāt deny that heās got arachnids chewing through his veins at the thought of cutting something. Casper moves over as needed, picks at the beast tattooed on the back of his hand. Assesses everyone with a squint as much as one could in the midst of a high speed getaway. Nope, heād never wish any kind of major damage on anybody, but he doesnāt realize heās biting his lip until he swears he can taste the blood beneath. Waiting for the crew to pile in was his nanosecond after violence and when it dawned on him that everyone was reasonably intact all he can really do is rest his chin on a balled fist and let out an affable, ājob well done, huh?ā
Heās almost defeated when he utters the quietest, āthatās boring.ā
Maybe next time he'll see if someone can bring him back a body. For practice.