I guarantee that’s a lie, [ lobbed back half-hearted-like for the benefit of his hostage on the subject of whores and standards, the man in black shifts over into a grunted, ] Shit, [ when Maeve meets his eyes in the glass and goes fugue.
He’s kind enough to dump his hostage aside before the madame swoops for him.
The end of her knife never catches in back of his suit. It carves through a black column of smoke mounted up into the shape of a man, her arm churning through smog rich and black as the felt of his hat.
He turns headlong into the attack, plunging against her, around her, sooty warm with a stench to match and not even halfway to fully re-formed before he returns the favor with a vicious slash for her neck.
One of the captives in the bank fumbles out a recording device.
no subject
He’s kind enough to dump his hostage aside before the madame swoops for him.
The end of her knife never catches in back of his suit. It carves through a black column of smoke mounted up into the shape of a man, her arm churning through smog rich and black as the felt of his hat.
He turns headlong into the attack, plunging against her, around her, sooty warm with a stench to match and not even halfway to fully re-formed before he returns the favor with a vicious slash for her neck.
One of the captives in the bank fumbles out a recording device.
ImPort fight!! ]