“What?” She’s a bloody mind reader? Oh wait, *teach* the thing to… that’s just stupid. If dogs could be trained to do that, wouldn’t The Council have done so by now? Utterly ludicrous. Still, that dust on his fur… Probably rolled around in something, it’s a rather dry city this Las Vegas. No really my kind of town. God, imagine having to live here! Horrible, it would be a bloody nightmare. “No, I don’t think that would work,” I muttered, shepherding them both into the building
( ... )
"I don't smoke." I replied easily as I sprinkled some of the green plant into a rolling paper. Well I didn't smoke cigarettes and according to the papers I was way old enough to do whatever I wanted and legally too. Fucking score! I could buy booze without havin' to give one of the neighborhood boys head to get it for me or stealin' it out of my Ma's liquor cabinet. Biting on my lower lip I concentrated on the task at hand. You had to get it just right or else it all fell to shit. Lucky for me I got taught how to do drugs the right way back in the day
( ... )
She doesn’t smoke? Then what is she doing with that cigarette…thing…thing. It looks odd, I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that. It’s greenish! I didn’t know tobacco could spoil. When she lights it, I wrinkle my nose looking at her disgusted. God, that really smells…odd
( ... )
Dude, I didn't know what was in this weed? But I was trippin' for real. Took another hit, leaned back, closed my eyes and there was more. Claws, I remembered that clearly. Claws scraping down my back so hard I thought I'd have no skin left. Sitting down to dinner. Wesley was sittin' next to me and I didn't like that. No. It wasn't Wes that I didn't like there, but someone else. Something bad was gonna happen. My heart leapt into my throat at the thought of it
( ... )
Alright, this smoke is just annoying. Not only is it making my eyes water, it also stinks and makes it hard to breathe. I can’t believe she doesn’t have any trouble with that! Coughing a little, I glanced over at her wondering if she was going to answer my question at all. But all she did was sitting there looking haunted and swaying lightly as though she was years away. Rather disconcerting to be honest
( ... )
A lot of pain? Why would that be the last thing he remembered? The last thing I remembered was hittin' the sack in the shitty little Boston apartment I shared with Kate. The other things were...fuzzy. They didn't even feel like memories just a dream world that I couldn't really get a fuckin' grasp on. Like the dinner, and did that mean that I knew this Wes guy? Couldn't imagine he was someone that I chilled with, buzzkill like him. And love? Well that was just retarded cause I didn't buy into that whole concept
( ... )
A lot of pain, that’s what I recalled. A whole hell of a lot of pain, but for some reason it felt as though it had happened to someone not me. And yet me. That didn’t make any sense what so ever. I never heard of a girl named Svenja and I never went through so much pain. It’s that stuff Faith is smoking that’s making me have these odd hallucinations. That’s it! It’s her fault, her and that….whatever she’s smoking
( ... )
"Pardon?" I mimiced him in a snotty voice and a bad English accent. God, he was just like those annoying Grey Poupon commercials. "It was pretty fucking rude of whoever to just throw us in Vegas with no explanation so I'm thinkin' all bets are off." I said in my own voice as I climbed back through the window and looked around the apartment. The smoke had mostly cleared but I was still high as a fucking kite. Normally it mellowed my ass out but tonight I was all kinds of tense. Which wasn't exactly surprising considering the circumstances
( ... )
Mimicking my accent. Oh that was mature. Rolling my eyes, I sighed and moved away from the window. I could tell that even if I talked until I was blue in the face, she wasn’t going to listen. Luckily, I also though that she most probably not going to listen to anyone. I wished Mister Giles would hurry up, because him she may listen to. There was just something about the way he sounded, despite his…son. Poor man
( ... )
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