InsaneJournal

You couldn't trust anyone anymore. Loyalties shifted day-to-day, the entire Prophet staff was on everybody's shit list because no matter which direction their articles leaned, somebody in power was angry, and that was more dangerous of a position to be in than ever.

Her breath tasted like her hand-rolled cigarettes (something Guy never had the patience for) as he cleared off the surface of her desk with one sweep of the arm and lifted her up to sit on it. Down in her dank, small office, they wouldn't be interrupted. Then again, they could be up on the editor-in-chief's desk and not be interrupted, either; the Prophet was like a ghost town of late.

Betty was like his drug; even as the world was falling apart around them, he'd do just about anything for another hit of her. It was the only light in these dingy times, and if Guy was going to be killed tomorrow -- or even today -- for things he'd written, at least he wouldn't die without another hit in her office.