Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: Dallas/Ronan
[She might have him there. He's so wrapped up in being irritated at the brash, unapologetic rasp of her thoughts reverberating in his head that he's not so concerned with the all of the other - with the sole exception of the leadfooted prick in the car behind them, he can't make out anything from the people they're passing in their hot little ride. No flickering, unformed images from the cluster of kids standing on a streetcorner. Nothing from the bum curled up in a shop's doorway as they speed past. Just a flash of intrusive colour all of a sudden: this car, wrapped around a lamppost and their blood all over the shattered windshield. Another wince, but he manages to wipe the picture out of his head almost as fast as it's gone from hers.
And the really crazy part? He actually laughs when the sudden press of her foot against the pedal snaps his skull back to meet the headrest, fear and exhilaration bubbling up in his throat and making his heart pound for none of the awful reasons that have become his norm lately.]
I want to get absolutely fucked. [He has to shout to be heard over the roar of the wind in his ears, leaning over the console that separates them and feeling the ends of her blonde hair whipping against his cheeks.] I mean a right gong show. Forget-your-name wasted. Don't give a shit where.