Margaret/Richard, and "I'm a goddamn coward, but then again so are youHow had they found each other, suddenly, after years of separation? Margaret knew him for only a few, short weeks. But Mr. Harrow was a man no one could forget. His partial face was sculpted from a children's story: the human side capable of a frown, a smile; the copper likeness empty-eyed, detached from fallible emotion. In the time between their encounters the edges of his painted mask had chipped and tarnished. A small hole had whittled it's way through the side of his cheek. The state of his mask reflected the drained color in his blackened eye. Yet, along with his weariness accompanied a strained determination. It was visible in the broad stretch of his shoulders, the rising incline of his posture, and the firm grip on his shotgun's barrel
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YESSS THIS IS SO GOOD, I LOVE IT
GUNS AND TENSION AND AND AND GUNS
ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
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