[ It's a dimly lit space, and she's got her hood up, but there's the warm glow from the tip of her cigarette to cast a little light on her distinctive features â that unforgivingly straight nose, those sharp dark eyes, hard to forget even if they hadn't spent most of last night inches from each other's faces.
She looks up at the sound of his voice, meets his gaze for one long stunned second, and abruptly turns away with a cough as she chokes on smoke. ]
What the fâ [ This is not how this is supposed to go. Did he just say he's the pilot? She's fucked up. Shit. Shit. ] What the hell are you doing here? [ Even though she knows the answer to that question. It all makes stupid sense now: Same fucking gig. ] No. We're not doing this. No way in hell.
no subject
She looks up at the sound of his voice, meets his gaze for one long stunned second, and abruptly turns away with a cough as she chokes on smoke. ]
What the fâ [ This is not how this is supposed to go. Did he just say he's the pilot? She's fucked up. Shit. Shit. ] What the hell are you doing here? [ Even though she knows the answer to that question. It all makes stupid sense now: Same fucking gig. ] No. We're not doing this. No way in hell.