ya girl rolled TMI
"Shit." What Jessica really needed was that coffee. It was early, she was hungover and hadn't even slept, and couldn't get a scratch in right through these pants. Instead, he dropped her head back against the Starbucks counter, lip raised as she squirmed in place to try to itch through her jeans, cradling her camera protectively as another bullet whizzed overhead and burst through the wall. It hadn't been her intention to start a fight. Dry-shaving before a date that didn't even fucking go anywhere was probably the worse idea, though. She squirmed again, looking to either side to assess her options here, but there was no telling anymore how many goons Mr. Bigshot, yelling at baristas and bystanders first thing in the morning because he deserves his coffee before everyone else, doesn't appreciate being photographed, could have called in to make him feel like a real big man. Maybe Jessica could reach up to the machine without anyone noticing if she grabbed one of these cups back here.