Apr 16, 2008 17:54
Rex didn't expect the door to his apartment to lead to the bar-but he didn't want to go home anyway.
Home was a panoramic view of the sunnydowns track, Home was a list of memos that needed to be processed and phonecalls that needed to be returned. Home was Minx-
He swallowed a stab of regret.
Minx who wasn't home because she was in Brazil cheering on the "Roaring Lions" Soccerclub. He loved to tease her about how she was the only woman he'd ever met who loved full-contact sports and lived for the almost gladatorial spectacle they created. She'd laugh and stand up straight-all cheetah and minx and jungle cat, "...I'm dating you aren't I?"
But he's numb to it.
The blood, shooting, causing crashes. Sometimes, Rex thinks-its easier his way. Very rarely does he deliver the killing blow. Instead he twists and turns and leaves people trapped in a steel cocoon of death and fire, a womb that kills them slowly.
So when he opens the door to find the bar he pulls off his mask automatically and reholsters his gun. Wouldn't do to leave that lying around.
Looking for familiar faces.
mixed muses,
rp