Re: the reunion; cas & mat
It must have been the kismetic interlace of the word âmonsterâ (having been previously employed to describe her own folklore) commingled with deja-vuing this spectacle of him vampiring open the foil bottlewrap of the aceâs neck, which had loosened some emotive debris. She had (gently, mind you, she knows its expensive) flung the door closed with a jailbirdâs anxious articulation. Her whole body stiffened on the other side of the doomtinted glass. A sinnerâs walk to the front of the vehicle commences, turning the vivid notches of her luciferspine to him.
She weighs telling him why, but not all of it. He wouldnât fucking believe all of it, unless she demonstrated it for him. Which she canât. Or maybe she could. Anyway, he deserves to know! He showed up. Not everybody does. Here lies the wiping away of some mysterious, lone, foreign liquid object in ovalform, tasting of saltwater from her jaw. Then, she glides over to the driverâs side, seeps into the car like a shadow next to him.
âListen, if I wouldâve stayed, I wouldnât have been able to protect you.â surprisingly, graveyard dirt serious. âSome super fucked up shit was happening that you wouldnât believe. In fact, some super fucked up shit ended up happening anyway, âcause thatâs just my life. One long, hard fuck after another.â Or something. âSo can I smoke in here?â