[ he laughs again, sharp, cruel, watching as lynch stands, still the brightest thing in this or any shithole world even black-clad and scowling like a thundercloud. he wants--
he wants, he wants, he wants. ]
Fuck you, [ he says by way of answer, forcing himself to look away. ] Bitch, does it matter? [ one day or thirty or a hundred. he wants a cigarette. he wants to knock lynch's teeth in. he wants to trace fingers over his tattoo and be allowed to this time. he wants proko. ]
no subject
he wants, he wants, he wants. ]
Fuck you, [ he says by way of answer, forcing himself to look away. ] Bitch, does it matter? [ one day or thirty or a hundred. he wants a cigarette. he wants to knock lynch's teeth in. he wants to trace fingers over his tattoo and be allowed to this time. he wants proko. ]