Re: Flash & Jake: Marvel late night
The red washed out like darker paint stirred into water. It was real pretty, and maybe men weren't supposed to notice that kind of thing, but Jake's eyes lifted off the seeping, ink-trail black as it wound across all that red, and looked briefly at the 'bigger guns'. Wasn't a whole lot in it, far as he could see: newspaper-grainy photos didn't do a lot and it wasn't real natural for men to go on checking other men out.
The hell-beast was back by the time Jake was done cramming the paint-can back into the worn napsack, and he grinned, a brief flash of white in the orange street-light, because there wasn't nothing scary about it when the hell-beast wasn't looming over like something out of a bad movie late on a Saturday night at the only screen in town.
"Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck with two fingers sheepishly, ducked his head low enough that the thick fringe of hair fell into his eyes. "It was a real good canvas." Regret colored the response.