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Joanna Beth Harvelle (reoismyantidrug) wrote in entrywaythreads,

He was strange. A little too observant. Jo could tell from looking at him that he'd probably led an interesting life. A rough one, for sure... but she didn't know what kind of rough. After all, "rough" came in all forms. Jo had learned to decipher what kind of "rough" a person was in most situations, but this one was an enigma.

He hadn't given anything away in his mannerisms or his speech patterns. She was no behaviorist, but she could spot certain tactics — lying was an easy one, for example — and people had so many tells that she'd found herself looking for them upon first meeting someone. Poker was a damn good teacher for that and Jo was a pro at the card game.

She was surprised, however, when he moved from his own seat and took the one next to her. Her fingers itched to grab the knife from her pocket, the one with the initials W. A. H., but she withheld for the moment. If need be, she could defend herself, but that didn't mean that this guy was going to make her.

What monsters do you hide from?

The question caught her offguard as much as his shift in seats did.

Monsters.

She swallowed and took another pull of her beer.

Monsters.

She'd been ripped apart by a monster. She'd hunted them damn near her entire life, which hadn't been that long. She'd been in love with two men who did the same thing... given her life for one of them.

So, she supposed there was only one answer to that question...

"I don't hide from monsters... I find them and I kill them."