Re: In the woods, near a path
This fucker romanticized everything, there was no helping him. There was no saving him. Look at the teeth in his mouth, white and clean and too-straight like it was a trick of the moon. He was no little lost sheep, Bo. She could string herself up in caution tape if she thought that it would help, but that was kind of like betting against the house. Not a good idea. Maybe he'd look more harmless on his knees, and he let those kneecaps bite into the leaves, the twigs, and the dirt of the woods while he knelt as in in effigy, not anything so debonair as a proposal. He wasn't the type for 'Til death do us part,' but that was wholly for personal reasons that we'll save for the epilogue. Tonight, they were mid-chapter, hadn't even hit the climax. "I've got to say, that you look like the perfect fit." It could have been a compliment, it could have just been crude.
"I might not have the vocabulary needed to go slipping you portions of novels, Pretty." Then again, maybe he did. Maybe they'd find out, maybe they wouldn't. At this point in time, he was only focused on the now. It was why he was kneeling in the dirt and the moisture of a blooming Spring. He didn't care much about his clothes, he didn't care much about anything except for her right now. Wasn't that enough? Could that ever be enough? He didn't expect love out of her, maybe Little Bo saved the real sweet stuff for her boyfriend, imaginary or not. History dictated who was and wasn't deserving of such things, and this bad guy? He wasn't holding his breath for any sweet nothings from her. She'd been all about the chase, and he'd caught her now, even if he hadn't yet realized what to do with, or to, her. When she laughed at the prospect of killing her maybe-boyfriend, all Leather did was shrug. Because he hadn't been joking, he didn't get the humor in it like she seemed to.
"You want a lot of things," he realized with the amusement of a non-provider. Which wasn't to say that he couldn't be persuaded into something of that nature. "If you want all of that, you're going to have to give me something to remember you by." Do you see how this works, Little Bo? Or was she Little Red now with danger creeping in on her heels, because he was crawling closer in the dirt. That dirt was getting between all of his fingers, and he didn't care.
Okay, so she wanted promises? Promises he could do, he had promises by the deck-full, even if he didn't always win the hand. "I'll keep you safe, I won't let anybody else touch you. You can hurt me, you can leave me heartbroken, do whatever you like. I'll still love you more than is capable of being told. I don't think I can live without you… if fact, I know that I won't be able to. I want you. I want to scare you with how much I want you. You're here having fun, and you could have fun with any guy out there, darling, but I want you. Nobody out there could want you more." The lean muscle in his back stretches out long from under the leather of Bad's jacket, and he sits back on his boot heels while look up at her. She wasn't a Madonna, and he wasn't really one for prayer. If he stared at her like anything, it was like prime cut hanging in a window. And Bad was the kind of man who'd been starving in the junkyard for too long.
"I want you. I'm afraid I won't know when to stop." She mentioned dancing again, and his swallow seemed a little dry in the moon cast of dark, like he'd been thinking about all of the stuff she'd mentioned before dancing. "If you want to dance," he spoke up from his bad place in the dirt. "Or don't you know what you want?"