Re: Theater Drunkheads: Eddie/Sasha
"Gross," she muttered under her breath with that trademarked smirk, but there was no motion to leave or shove him away. Hell no. Sasha secretly lived for these little moments, knowing full well that Eddie genuinely meant what he said. She turned her head quick and kissed his cheek, resting her forehead against his temple for only a moment, "Me too." A secret between them, Sasha's soft gooey center exposed only to the people she trusted to not take advantage. It really was a nice moment. Warm. Special. Few and far between for people like them.
And it was great until that frog interrupted with its croak. Oh. Oh. Not a rock. Monster face. That was the face of a monster. Eddie screamed and Sasha squared her shoulders to the weird vine-covered thing as its eyes looked through the two out of place rappers.
Eddie's gun? Meet Sasha's pickpocket fingers. Bullets? Meet swamp monster's chest. It was lightning fast and instinctual, three shots to center mass as it rose out of the bog mud. She would never let anything hurt the people she cared about, and Eddie shared the top spot on that list. So this right here? Was pretty epic and heroic and all that nonsense, right? It looked really good, at least.
Not that it stopped the monster. Nope. It just kept right on lumbering up and forward, now entirely angry at the creatures that invaded its territory.
"EDDIE, GET UP WE HAVE TO GO!" Sasha was screaming over the ringing in her ears from the gunshots, "BAR IS CLOSED. MISSED LAST CALL." She nudged the gun back against his chest for him to take, while her other hand looped under his arm to try and heft him out of swamp mud. "NOT TAKING THAT GRENADE HOME. SORRY MISTER FROG. PEACE OUT."
Fuck fuck fuck fuck, they had to get out of here. How the hell were they going to get out of here?
And where are the french fries? ...Later, Sasha. Worry about that later.