Crookie
night of the living punk
The silence Rachel was admitting was toxic - it felt long and stretchy, like candy taffy. He just simply watched her watch him in return, his eyes grazing every feature of her delicate face. He had managed, for one of the rarest moments in both of their lives, to make Campbell at a lost of words.
But when she did speak, it was fragile poetry, dancing off of her tongue, from the corner of her mouth. He was in a trance, hearing those light, painted words, framed by the pound of his heavy heartbeat.
He broke out of the spell the moment Rachel and him crashed back to reality. He blinked, and in the moment of the question, an almost devilish smirk crawled across his lips.
"I have four grand left over from the last robbery," he said quietly, his sparkling eyes flashing to meet Rachel's. "Get my gun, steal a car, get the fuck out. I've had this planned out for years, spending nights up on end, thinking about it. The only thing I don't have planned out is how we're going to tell the others. Should we bring them along?"
He had to bite down on his bottom lip to hinder himself from grinning slyly any further. But, the look turned to a seductive stare, all bee-stung plush lips, provocative eyebrows and lidded eyes at the redhead.
"Or - fake our deaths to get a clean escape?"
But when she did speak, it was fragile poetry, dancing off of her tongue, from the corner of her mouth. He was in a trance, hearing those light, painted words, framed by the pound of his heavy heartbeat.
He broke out of the spell the moment Rachel and him crashed back to reality. He blinked, and in the moment of the question, an almost devilish smirk crawled across his lips.
"I have four grand left over from the last robbery," he said quietly, his sparkling eyes flashing to meet Rachel's. "Get my gun, steal a car, get the fuck out. I've had this planned out for years, spending nights up on end, thinking about it. The only thing I don't have planned out is how we're going to tell the others. Should we bring them along?"
He had to bite down on his bottom lip to hinder himself from grinning slyly any further. But, the look turned to a seductive stare, all bee-stung plush lips, provocative eyebrows and lidded eyes at the redhead.
"Or - fake our deaths to get a clean escape?"
Last edited by a moderator: