Post by yolanda7h on May 30, 2011 23:40:32 GMT -5
“Y’know, that’s not a bad idea. ‘Specially since there’s nothing stoppin’ me, and you’ll be gone again before long.”
"Then get outta here," Dally said, turning briefly to gesture a hand towards the door as he searched for his pack. He had just about enough of this broad complaining about him being away. Its like she couldn't get it through her fuckin skull. Either he keeps from stickin around Windrixville for a while or he ends up in jail for much longer. And there aint no fuckin way he's going to jail over some broad who needs attention all the fuckin time.
Dal had never been with a girl so high maintenance. He might as well have snagged a Soc or something with how Sylvia kept rattling off about what she wanted. And goddammit, he wanted that smoke. Dal wasn't addicted or anything but man, sometimes he really wanted a smoke and now was just one of those times. As his eyes scanned the kitchen counter, one of hands balled into a fist as if he wanted to punch a wall. He didn't even realize he was doing it.
“Lookin’ for somethin’?”
That's when Dally turned around. The slut had his pack.
“Maybe these? Or even better, maybe the chick of your dreams? Better think fast, ‘cause she’s about ready to head out the door if you don’t stop throwin’ a hissy fit an’ you keep denyin’ everythin’ I throw out there....So what’ll it be?”
Dally wasn't even going to try to understand what this girl's problem was. The chick of his dreams? What the fuck? He approached and with a hand on the back of the couch by her head, Dal leaned over to her - close enough so that it looked like he would kiss her, but his eyes were cold as ice.
"If you wanna get out, get the hell out and give me my fuckin cigarettes." Dal was beyond pissed off, but he couldn't deny that he wanted her - she was hotter than hot. But Dal dropped a lot of hot girls. There was always someone hotter.
Still.
Dal kept his stone gaze when he shoved his hand between her thighs aggressively, to grab on to her hands and subsequently the cigerattes - the sexually suggestive manner in which he did it all too obvious.
"Then get outta here," Dally said, turning briefly to gesture a hand towards the door as he searched for his pack. He had just about enough of this broad complaining about him being away. Its like she couldn't get it through her fuckin skull. Either he keeps from stickin around Windrixville for a while or he ends up in jail for much longer. And there aint no fuckin way he's going to jail over some broad who needs attention all the fuckin time.
Dal had never been with a girl so high maintenance. He might as well have snagged a Soc or something with how Sylvia kept rattling off about what she wanted. And goddammit, he wanted that smoke. Dal wasn't addicted or anything but man, sometimes he really wanted a smoke and now was just one of those times. As his eyes scanned the kitchen counter, one of hands balled into a fist as if he wanted to punch a wall. He didn't even realize he was doing it.
“Lookin’ for somethin’?”
That's when Dally turned around. The slut had his pack.
“Maybe these? Or even better, maybe the chick of your dreams? Better think fast, ‘cause she’s about ready to head out the door if you don’t stop throwin’ a hissy fit an’ you keep denyin’ everythin’ I throw out there....So what’ll it be?”
Dally wasn't even going to try to understand what this girl's problem was. The chick of his dreams? What the fuck? He approached and with a hand on the back of the couch by her head, Dal leaned over to her - close enough so that it looked like he would kiss her, but his eyes were cold as ice.
"If you wanna get out, get the hell out and give me my fuckin cigarettes." Dal was beyond pissed off, but he couldn't deny that he wanted her - she was hotter than hot. But Dal dropped a lot of hot girls. There was always someone hotter.
Still.
Dal kept his stone gaze when he shoved his hand between her thighs aggressively, to grab on to her hands and subsequently the cigerattes - the sexually suggestive manner in which he did it all too obvious.
