Rhiannon froze, key in the door, as she caught sight of the Impala over the roof of her car. “Well, well.” It was her would-be assassin in the flesh. She briefly entertained the notion of jumping in her Volkswagen and flooring it, then claiming she thought Whistler was an apparition after her tires flattened him. For shits and giggles.
Better judgment and a reticence towards courtrooms prevailed.
She pocketed her key and approached him. The trip into the bookstore could wait.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2013-10-01 02:07 am (UTC)Better judgment and a reticence towards courtrooms prevailed.
She pocketed her key and approached him. The trip into the bookstore could wait.
“You still here?”