Re: Mat & Ren || The Docks
“That’s the worst fucking line I’ve ever heard in my life. “ she sibilates, practically neon. The vvitch looks half-crazed, predatory, complete with a coagulated bloodring at the cusp of her right nostril, wet and naiad pale, shivering with fury and cold. There’s a scoff that tumbles out in the seeping dark, but this is your lucky night, Ren. It could be the hollow daze from the mind flaying, the silky vodka, the (sadly) human need for casual in place of ardent intimacy that she is malnourished of, teeming up with craving. But, she’s down. Frail and willowy and hungry for a medium, bleeding-rare steak and a Nat Sherman, she’s down.
And, maybe he does know her name, but with all the Miss Evil (which was much more fitting) and the profanity laden outburst hemmed with an earlier question intended for excavating it, she thought he didn’t. In either case, she doesn’t care. “But, you can still come punish me up against some wall in this shitty boathouse for a while,” she says, oh-so-charmingly, “Just don’t try to kiss me, “ she warns, “I’m not into that with people I don’t give a shit about.” since he’s going to remember, she thinks, she needs to be as venomous as possible.
She marches shamelessly over to him, grabs his wrist if he doesn’t object, and starts to lead him into the dark, like some lurid, fictional being.