|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Aug 20, 2012 19:01:41 GMT 1
Rick woke up while the sun was still up. He looked over at the beautiful ancient woman laying in the bed next to him sleeping like an angel. He didn't love her like a man loves a woman but he did love her in an endearing way. He was sure to please her each night before the sun came up and they were both happy for it. He was certain she loved him so when she said it, he said it back. It wasn't a lie, he just didn't love her the way she loved him. Why did it matter, they were both happy.
He took a shower and got dressed in the clothes she liked him in. Jeans and a t-shirt was his signature dress along with the standard issue boots he wore. He wanted to go for a walk in the sun. She liked it when he smelled like sunshine when she woke and kissed him good morning.
He left the posh home and walked down the street, looking at the people who were Vamp-phobic that were rushing to get home before the sun went down. He thought it was silly for any humans to fear their benefactors. The small donations he fed to his mistress never hurt him and sometimes she would feed him her own blood to strengthen him when he was forced to take breaks from her feedings. She took good care of him. He was fed and clothed and wanted for nothing. Maybe it wasn't as good for other blood slaves but his life was good.
He stopped when he reached the Pit Stop and went inside. He ordered a cinnamon roll that he knew were made by the woman called Gran and a coffee. This was his time to just sit and think, clear his mind, make plans for his upcoming freedom. He had to decide what he was going to do.
Rick sat looking out the window with a peaceful look on his face, sipping his coffee. He heard someone behind him clear his throat. He looked up and smiled.
"Mind if I join you? That's my favorite table and you seem to be alone."
Rick's closed mouth smile turned into a toothy one, "Sure, have a seat. I like this table too." He motioned to the seat across from him. Some people were so nice in this town. That was in stark contrast to the broody, mopey, 'poor little me' types that turned his stomach. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he asked cheerfully.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 3, 2012 5:56:28 GMT 1
“Oh god, I want some tea,” she muttered, walking down the street in a way that may or may not have told everyone else to stay out of her way. At least, that’s what the man who just hurried away from her thought very loudly, making her smother a smile in a light cough and push open the door to the Pit. She knew she should have worn a hat when the reflection of the sun bouncing off her hair temporarily blinded her as she almost stumbled to the counter and rather looked rather pathetically at Gran until a very large mug of tea was handed to her.
Grinning at her and thanking her profusely, and wondering if she should perform here for free as thanks for all the kindness, her eyes landed on a man. This wasn’t an uncommon action because there were plenty of men about, human or not, but this man was sitting at her favorite table and she was suddenly gripped with uncertainty as to whether she should sit down still. Her legs had already made the decision for her, having not stopped when her brain had (curse you, muscle memory!) and she found herself behind the man. Ooh, awkward, she thought. Say something!
"Mind if I join you? That's my favorite table and you seem to be alone."
The words just tumbled out of her mouth, a bit rushed and she felt her face heat up. Oh god, now she sounded like she was flirting with him and she really wasn’t, though he was handsome and—down, girl. Focus, Chantrice!
She smiled back at him, happy that he seemed to be the friendly type and not one of those really angry ones. “It’s got a great view from here, especially today,” she nodded, holding her mug firmly as she sat across from him and crossed her legs. The sun was setting and thankfully, wasn’t in either of their eyes, casting a beautiful light on everything inside and outside. “You’re in a good mood!” Time for some of that confidence she’d been storing for the past month to force its way out.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 3, 2012 8:33:25 GMT 1
Rick barely looked up at the woman until she sat down. Once she was seated, he turned and offered her a cheerful smile. "Yes, it is beautiful. I love the sun and it always gives us a special good night each evening as it goes to bed." he glanced out at the deep, rich burnt orange and rich golden sky that was accented with wispy purple clouds that decorated the firmament as if it were an artists canvas. "Another hour before its down." he said softly, "I'll have to be home by then." This was not said in a melancholy manner, more of a nostalgic happiness that was deep seeded inside him. Whilst he was glad to be outdoors while the sun was shining, he enjoyed the joy he brought his mistress by being there when she woke and taking care of her womanly needs.
"Why thank you, I am always in a good mood. It does no one any good to dwell on things that bring negative thoughts. My mistress says that it takes too much energy to focus on bad things. We should save all our energy for the good things that are coming." he smiled broadly and picked up his cinnamon roll, "Like the inside of this tasty delight." he said and lifted his eyebrows successively. He peeled off the outside edge of the sweet pastry that was crisp on the outside with light and fluffy sweet bread inside and hot ooey gooey cinnamon raisin filling between the layers.The thick, melted white sugary cream cheese drizzled across on the top was quite literally the icing on the cake.
He took a delicate bite and closed his eyes, savoring the sweet goodness as the cinnamon flavor delighted his taste buds. "Mmm." he hummed his approval as he chewed slowly then swallowed. "This is just the beginning. What is best is the knowing." he examined the rest of the soft strip of pastry, "Knowing that it gets better as you get closer to the middle." he grinned evilly, "And knowing you can do this..." he stuck his finger in the middle and pushed out the steaming core, "...is even better." he plucked the center of the cinnamon roll out and stuffed it in his mouth. He rolled his eyes in ecstasy so hard he could probably see his brain.
For what seemed like no reason at all, he suddenly grabbed his coffee cup and held it fast. "Hold your cup." he said with his mouth full then held his hand out to the side. Normally, he wouldn't talk with his mouthful but this was important. A second later the young waitress that worked there, walked by with a loaded tray. She stepped on a wet spot on the floor, slipped and swayed hard toward the table. As her hip swung into the table and shook it, the salt and pepper shakers rattled and threatened to tip, his hand caught her elbow, keeping her from dumping the tray and righted her so she didn't fall.
"Oh I am so sorry! Thank you!" the waitress quickly examined the table, "Well, I'm glad I didn't spill your coffee." she smiled and patted Rick on the shoulder with the hand that was not holding the tray, "Thanks Rick."
Rick simply smiled up at her and continued chewing the mouthful of sweet roll in his mouth. He looked back at the woman sitting with him as the waitress walked away and swallowed, "Close one." he grinned then licked the corners of his mouth and picked up a napkin to wipe the tips of his fingers.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 4, 2012 6:47:16 GMT 1
Tilting her head, a small smile appeared on her lips as she allowed herself to ponder what he had said regarding the night habits of the sun. That was definitely something she hadn’t heard before, and rather poetic at that. She supposed he was right though; the sun did bid them a good night before setting, a very beautiful good night. Home by dark, though, was curious. She wondered, curious rising.
“May I… ask why you need to be home by nightfall?” The words were spoken softly, reflecting her fear of offending the man. She didn’t want to assume anything but most people who wanted or needed to be home by nightfall were sanguivoriphobics (afraid of blood eaters) or just didn’t feel safe at night. Reasonable, she supposed, but at the same time, not. The vampires weren’t going to randomly attack people. That’d be stupid…
“Mistr—Oh!” And the blush was back. “T-That’s a very good philosophy to keep,” she murmured, trying to shove her blush down to depths it had crawled from. Idly, she marveled at far she could shove her foot in her mouth and then how far he would go with the suggestive wording. “You’re horrible,” she muttered into her cup, no heat behind the words, regardless of the heat she could feel on her face.
Starting slight when he suddenly grabbed his cup, she gripped hers tightly and took a sip, nearly choking when the waitress nearly careened into their table. “Are you alright?!” she blurted, wide-eyed and worried. The waitress, apparently familiar with her companion, walked away unharmed and she relaxed. Catching his eye, she narrowed her own at him in playful suspicion. Who was she to judge him on how he knew? Though…
“How did you know?” Genuine curiosity colored her question and in the back of her mind, she really hoped she wasn’t being too forward. Sometimes she could tell what people would do but only when they were thinking of the plans they’d made beforehand or when she delved deep—which, admittedly, she tried not to do. She found that some things, some people, were better left alone. This, though, was different. It was almost… precognitive, really.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 4, 2012 16:10:05 GMT 1
Rick didn’t really understand how he was horrible, other than he cheated by eating the middle of the cinnamon roll before the ate the outside. His mistress thought it was cute. He didn’t really understand her blush so he thought hard about it. It dawned on him that what he said could have had a double meaning and now it was his turn to blush.
“Oh no! I didn’t mean it….” He held up his hands then facepalmed and shook his head, “….I didn’t mean it like that.” He added, “I meant that sometimes you can skip to the best things.”
He realized that could have had the same double meaning, “I mean…I mean, aw heck, forget it.” He wasn’t going to even try again since he seemed to have a mouthful of shoe leather and it was not a pleasant taste.
“How did I know?” he changed the subject to answer her question. “I saw it.” He looked toward the wet spot on the floor that one of the owners was cleaning up, “See that? It was three steps from where she was, the tray was in her left hand, she would have compensated by going left, but it was in her right so she turned right but that would make her hit the table with her hip, which is what she did, and that would have made her fall over our table. So, I grabbed my cup so it wouldn’t tip and put my hand out so I could catch her elbow before she could fall and right herself before disaster happened.” He took another sip of his coffee and poked at the rest of his cinnamon roll, “I was just paying attention.”
Just then a man was putting on his coat as he walked by. His wallet fell from his pocket and Rick simply reached out and caught it without even looking up, “Sir!” he called the man, “You dropped this.” The man glared at Rick and mumbled something about thieves and pickpockets. He snatched his wallet, checked it and offered a suspicious look at Rick before leaving. Rick shrugged and smiled at the woman across from him, “My name is Rick, by the way, what is yours?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 4, 2012 19:45:21 GMT 1
Chantrice snickered, trying to hold the bubble of laughter trying to escape, even as her own face turned red again. At least he was trying to convey what he’d meant but it really only made it worse, and even funnier. She took a sip of her tea—sweet and slightly warm—and tried to muffle her giggles in her cup. It wasn’t working very well but at least now she had someone to suffer through foot-mouth syndrome with her.
“It’s alright, I know what you meant,” she murmured, nodding slightly. “I’ve embarrassed myself a few times this week already. For instance, I had hidden away a small bag of carrots in one of my pockets to eat later and then promptly forgot about it when I was practicing. When I found it a few hours later, I was surprised and happy, and without really thinking, I exclaimed ‘Ah, carrots. The things you find in my pants!’” She imagined her face matched one of those old ‘Stop’ signs that littered the remains of the old city. “And you can imagine what my friends all thought…” Maybe that would help take his mind off the misunderstanding.
…Just paying attention? That seemed to be a lot of thought going into ‘just paying attention’ but, she supposed, she wasn’t all that observant so thank goodness someone was. She told him as much and took a big drink of her tea. She needed to get to ask how they made this tea—it was amazing!
“Uh-huh… He’s an ass…” she grumbled, glaring at the man leaving and nearly snorted, lowering her head. You were pretty shady yourself, hypocrite… Something about smuggling, but that was all she really didn’t want to know so she turned back to Rick. “He’ll probably get caught doing whatever he does illegally at Freemont if his body language is anything to go by.” Sometimes the simplest explanations are the best ones. This also applied to lies, but Chantrice was focusing on explanations right now.
“Oh! Hell, sorry! Hello, Rick. My name is Chantrice.” She grinned this time, set her cup down, and stuck her hand to shake his. Reading didn’t necessarily involve touch but she made extra sure her fingerless gloves covered her palms satisfactorily. It didn’t help her heart to panicking slightly but that forced confidence needed something to do and it was better if it came out this way.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 7, 2012 18:32:01 GMT 1
Rick chuckled at Chantrice’s giggling. She was adorable in that she blushed so easily and not contain his delight at her antics. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you blush.” He snickered and had to put his cup down. He blushed lightly himself, not used to paying compliments to those of the opposite sex. He watched the man walk out of the coffee shop and made a wincing face.
“I don’t think he will have to worry about that.” He said and turned his head, looking out the window sideways, flinching at what was to come. Just as he did it, two VSF officers ran by, knocking the man into the street where he was struck by an electric car. It wasn’t going fast enough to kill him but Rick was certain it had to hurt. There was no way he could have gotten outside in time to stop it from happening.
“That’s going to hurt for awhile.” He grimaced and picked up his cup again. But, like Chantrice said, he was an ass. “Karma is a jealous mistress…” he muttered. He was not the type to dwell on things so he moved on. “Nice to meet you Chantrice.” He smiled and offered a mug warmed hand. Being Homo Superior Superior his mind was stronger than regular humans were, he would be virtually unreadable by someone who was able to read minds.
He really didn’t know what else to say because he didn’t get out much unless his mistress was sleeping. He usually slept during the day with her since that was one of his duties as a blood slave. Even if his mistress didn’t treat him like one. He would have asked her what she did for a living but then she might ask him and he was an honest man.
Some people were just assholes about what he was. Some people looked as blood slaves as sell outs. So, instead of talking more, he took another bite of his cinnamon roll and chased it with another sip of his coffee.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 8, 2012 3:27:54 GMT 1
If her face got any hotter, Chantrice knew she’d be tempted to see if she could boil her tea the next time she took a long drink. “Thank you. You’re quite the smooth talker,” she murmured, trying to make her blush leave. It was a stubborn thing, like her, and so refused to budge as much as a centimeter. She was so deep in her thoughts that it took her a moment for her mind to catch up to his words.
“Huh?”
Turning to look, she gasped and nodded in stunned silence. “I don’t think he’ll be awake for a while.” She was taking a stab in the dark here, but judging from the total lack of response when the VSF officers moved his body, she’d wager she was right. Tilting her head slightly, she bit her lip and shook her head. He may’ve been an ass but she wasn’t sure if she’d want that for him.
“A jealous mistress? That’s definitely a new one.” Chantrice shook his hand and hid her puzzlement over his tougher mental barriers—she hadn’t tried to breach them, she wasn’t completely devoid of manners, but they were there, and stronger than most. She’d have congratulated him on them but it would have led to questions she really didn’t want to answer with so many potential witnesses about and so much more awkwardness than she was prepared to consciously handle.
Motioning to one of the waitresses wandering about, she requested a refill as politely and quietly as she could without whispering. It was well-ingrained by this point for her to avoid drawing more attention than necessary. (She was fairly adept at fading into the background now.) Facing Rick, she opened her mouth to ask him what he did for fun but paused. How forward was that? Was it appropriate since she’d only just met him? ‘Where do you live?’ didn’t seem appropriate either, really.
“So, were you born here? In New Vegas, I mean.”
Yes, much safer than ‘Ever seen a zombie?!’ Her eyes unconsciously scanned the horizon of the city's walls.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 9, 2012 8:42:52 GMT 1
Rick tilted his head and looked at the woman with a slightly confused look on his face when she called him a smooth talker. He had never been called that before. He thought maybe she had confused his honesty with a pickup line or something. "Oh, I wouldn't say that." he said quickly, "I was just stating the obvious." He put a hand up when the waitress came by to refill his cup, "I have to get home, Amelia will be waking." he explained. She seemed to understand, offering him a smile that indicated that she knew what he was talking about and moved on.
He felt something strange when Chantrice took his hand but it only lasted for a moment so he let it go, chalking it up to his worrying about being home for his mistress. "Yes, I was born here." he answered quickly, "Look, I would love to continue this conversation but I need to get home." he didn't want to just walk away, he wanted to talk to her more. There was only one solution to that.
"After I fulfill my duties, would you like to have a drink with me?" he asked her in a friendly way. He hoped she didn't get the wrong idea, he was just happy to be making a new friend, even if he did find her beautiful and desireable. His mistress would let him sleep with whomever he wished, he could even take them home with him if he wanted to. On a few occasions, if they were quite lovely, she would take them into her bed together. He liked it when she did that.
Rick's thoughts returned to the woman. He could see Amelia letting her join them. He blushed and pushed the thoughts aside. "I'll be free in about four hours." he informed her, hoping she would be free as well.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 9, 2012 19:05:16 GMT 1
Chantrice just smiled at him when he mentioned ‘Amelia’ waking. She didn’t know for certain until he said ‘duties’ but it didn’t really bother her. He was obviously content—actually happy seemed to be the better descriptor—with his life, despite the fact that he had to leave. She smiled again and nodded.
“I would like that. You’re an interesting and nice conversationalist,” she complimented as she drained the last of her tea. She really should stop drinking so much of the stuff but she could never bring herself to give it up and she refused to do any drugs, including V, regardless of what they would “cure” her of. She wasn't stupid.
Spying that fleeting blush, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Interesting thoughts?” she asked, only teasing a bit. He was good-looking but more than that, he was a decent person! Few people seemed to realize just how rare that was here. Stating the obvious was as much a blessing as those amazing cookies Gran made. Highly appreciated.
“Four hours? Erm…” Oh, this might be awkward. “I’ll be here for about an hour but I usually…” She stopped and started fiddling with her ear, an unconscious habit that had both earned friends and repulsed the more anti-mutant types as it usually allowed a glimpse of her ears. Scowling slightly, she forced herself to not touch her ears anymore. “I usually… meet up with my father at the gate to the Wastes for target practice.”
It sounded so stupid and dangerous when she said it out loud, no matter how lowly, but it was practically tradition by now! “But I’ll be sure to be here in about four hours, practice or not.” And after a shower.
Chantrice almost desperately hoped that would be reassuring enough. She wouldn't have him meet her near the Wastes no matter how friendly most of the Havenites were to her. "Is... Is that alright?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 11, 2012 8:38:19 GMT 1
Rick could feel the let down coming. Her expression said that she had other plans, or was suddenly going to make them. He had seen this before. That was OK, he had plenty of ways to occupy his time, maybe he would go play with the new babies at the new pet shop.
Her answer surprized him. She was not putting him off or blowing smoke up his ass to avoid seeing him again.She simply had to meet with her father for some...extra curricular activities. He had never fired a gun before. He wondered what it was like.
It was not like Rick to invite himself along to something that might be a family activity but he was curious and he wanted to try it. He scratched his head, trying to figure out a way to ask, "Umm...I've never fired a gun before. I'd like to try it." he informed her casually. Maybe she would invite him along and he would finally be able to find out what all the hype was about being able to shoot one.
"I mean, where do you go? Where do you get a gun so you can go do that?" His questions were completely innocent since he was a little sheltered by his mistress. She had been keeping him safe from the outside world since he was twelve. He wondered how she would feel about it and thought it would be better to not tell her if he were to go on such an adventure.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 11, 2012 19:23:07 GMT 1
Chantrice blinked in surprise. He wasn’t going to laugh? Or mock her or insist that she was too tiny to be doing something that had the potential to backfire so spectacularly? She hadn’t really thought Rick was the type, but she hadn’t read him—or even tried, really—so she wasn’t entirely sure. His response, though, made her smile.
“That’s not so unusual, actually,” she assured him. “Most people don’t like going into the Wastes or even near the gate. Most like to forget the um, zombies outside.” In fact, her mother was so far in denial that Chantrice wasn’t quite certain she was all there. Or that she even knew her daughter had moved out. She certainly never acted like anything was wrong, ever.
“I’d be happy to show you!” Just not how her father had. It seemed too… sudden and surprising to do that to him. Surprises in the Wastes get people killed. Horribly. “My father makes his living restoring, repairing, and, occasionally, building weapons—mostly firearms—for other interested parties. ” And he never let her near any of his meetings so she could say that she had no idea who his clients were. If she had to guess, she’d say the VSF but…
She smiled at him again and told him that she got her guns from her father and that he always had spares on him. It’d be nice if someone joined them but maybe she should teach him to aim first? She always carried one loaded gun on her and one unloaded one to scare off people with less than… honorable intentions. Pulling out the unloaded one, she set it on the table. It was a fairly standard handgun, silver; good grip, and balanced well. “It’s not loaded and the safety’s on. This one’s a 9mm; yes, you can use it; no, it doesn’t bite.” She did, but only when someone really deserved it.
She didn’t think she’d get into too much trouble. She’d shown her guns here before, but it was always better to keep a low profile and not go waving weapons around like they were ribbons. She just didn’t know if Rick would actually want to touch the gun, or if he was allowed to. Some people didn’t care about guns at all and some did, others treated them like fire—pretty to look at but not so fun to touch.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 14, 2012 8:28:50 GMT 1
Rick smiled broadly when she seemed to get excited about her adventures with her father to the gates to the wastes. He wondered how she got away with carrying the guns around. Did they have special permission from the VSF or the council to have the guns?
His eyes bugged out when she put a gun on the table as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her father, being a gunsmith would probably have permission to carry them for transport but not for protection or sport inside the city. He snatched it off the table and tucked it in his lap. "Are you crazy??" he whispered sharply and looked around to make sure no one saw it. "The VSF would take you away if they caught you with those." he looked around again, paranoid that someone might have seen.
Suddenly a very handsome man was standing over him. He looked up and smiled at one of the owners of the Pit Stop. "Uh, hi Mateu." he stammered.
"Please remove that from my shop. I do not need any trouble here with my stepfather being of the Vampire persuasion. I will pretend I never saw it." the soft, gentle German accent slid from his lips to their ears and to no one else's.
"Right, yes...sorry, won't happen again." Rick said as he quickly dropped some scripts on the table to pay for both of them, with a hefty tip and grabbed Chantrice's hand. He pulled up the front of his shirt, giving her a glimpse of his washboard abs as he tucked the gun in his waistband and pulled his shirt down over it. "Come on." he muttered and tugged her hand, "Let's go."
((take them out of the shop, permission to manhandle for one post.))
|
|
|
|
Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 14, 2012 23:51:17 GMT 1
((Go for it!))
“Not normally,” she muttered, flicking a card at Mateu. It was one of several she usually never carried but today was a practice day and something told her she might need them. The gold lettering on the card glinted as it flew through the air and inwardly, she smiled as Rick tugged her toward the door. She would have never picked out a card like that and her father knew it—that’s why it was basically his card, with her listed as an apprentice under him. “It was my fault. I’m sorry.” Putting as much sincerity as she was capable of into the apology, she quickly hugged Mateu before being tugged away by Rick.
A lucky glance down at what he was doing left her cheeks bright red and she quickly looked everywhere but him as they left the shop. He was very fit and she was trying to keep any naughty thoughts from entering her mind, but damn, was it hard…
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to Rick. She hadn’t meant to scare him, or anyone else really—she’d just been so excited! And this is why I never talk guns with anyone but Dad,’ she thought, somewhat glum. "You didn't have to do that..." Pay or leave the tip or even drag her out of there; it was applicable to all. That nervousness he'd been exhibiting earlier made her glance around subtly, through her hair, to see if any VSF officers were nearby for any reason.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 16, 2012 11:06:12 GMT 1
Rick ran a hand through his hair uncomfortable, "Sorry, I'm already a blood slave. If I get into any more trouble, I don't know what they would do to me." He was certain his mistress had enough pull to keep him alive, but in what respect? Would he end up a lab rat, a techahuman with his mind wiped? He couldn't be sure but he liked his life how it was.
He forced himself to calm down as he realized the time. "Hey, I gotta go, but I'll meet you by the gates." he said quickly, "My mistress will be waking and she will need to be serviced." he added as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Truth be told, he didn't know any better. Sex was just another pleasant perk to being his mistress's blood slave. He was her love toy and he was good at his job.
"I won't be long, she will want to be alone afterwards. She does 4 hours of meditation every day." he smiled, leaned in a kissed her on the cheek then ran off towards home.
It was a short run but he was just a little late. His mistress was sitting up in bed looking for him with an annoyed look on her face. It didn't matter, he was excited about his plans with Chantrice. He stripped his clothes off on his way to the bed and tackled his mistress playfully. His antics had him forgiven almost immediately.
As he fulfulled his duties, his mind kept imagining that it was chantrice under him. Upon his third release, the latter two being inspired by his mistress, once by a bite to his groin and stimulation to his prostate, the third by mouth music and glamour. She loved to make him release. He loved it too.
By the time he lay spent and smiling on the bed and his mistress was in the shower, calling out to him to leave the suite for the next four hours, all he could think about was spending more time with his new friend. He quickly showered in his own bathroom, got dressed and hit the door running.
The gates were quite far from his casino suite so he settled into a easy jog that would have been a dead run for any other human. He checked his waist band 3 times to make sure the gun she loaned him was still here and couldn't help but smile.
Soon, he saw two people near the gates but continued to run until he was just a few meters away and slowed to a walk. "Hi." he called out to Chantrice and waved. He blushed as memories of his imaginations flashed in his mind. Damn she was beautiful.
|
|
