Re: Sonrisa: Hunter R & Cris M
Cris let the kid go, putting his hand up, fingers splayed in the universal signa surrender—he wasn't holding him down, see? In fact, once he let go, he was twisting partially in his seat, digging in the pocketsa his hoodie. Most everything he kept in his jeans like every guy over thirty, but he wanted to be sure. He patted himself down, ignoring the silence that gathered like static.
Satisfied he wasn't leaving nothing in the thing, he tugged the black over his head, peeling up the bottoma his t-shirt a few inches, before the hoodie came freea tossed, dark hair and let his shirt drop back down below his belt. His back was still raw from rolling over the gristled concrete, but he ignored it as best he could. The hoodie was still warm. Still wet too, where asphalt salted it from the chase earlier, but he passed it over to Hunter easy.
"Take it." Long fingers fished out the hemma his shirt and Cris tugged it straight. His wrist now revealed, he looked at his watch outta habit, before he crumpled up the blood-tinged napkin and moved it to the side. He didn't bother with his hair, leaving it to its wilderness as he leaned forward again. "I'm gonna ask you one more time 'bout the money, huh? Who you gotta pay off?"