Prompt: 100 Faces [1/112]
((112 icons, one drabble for each icon expression. Let's see how long this takes.))
Somewhere along the way the standard good cop/bad cop routine Erika and Ginia pulled turned into a bad cop/worse cop scenario and it surprised Ginia to be typecast as the worst cop. Erika was the loud one, the pushy one, the one vocally threatening to beat someone’s face while puffing away on a cigarette and dropping ashes and cigarette butts onto their target’s lap. She annoyed, irritated, pushed and pulled every button she could find all while they spat and swore back. Ginia, the silent observer, stood in the background and gave the occasional flex and stretch of her fingers and straightened out her shirt, an ever-present smile on the front of a frigid bitch.
In the event she had to snap a few bones, it surprised her how quickly their target caved and gave the information they wanted. When Erika snapped fingers, they screamed and yelled and fired insults back at her and refused to speak, but sometimes all it took was her quietly walking over and taking off her glove to get a stubborn subject to begin talking. By the time she broke their pointer finger with a swift and somewhat satisfying snap, they were blabbing out information.
“Makes sense if you ask me,” Erika replied over a large plate of French fries when Ginia asked her about it while they ate dinner in a diner, noisy chatter from the other tables and a blaring jukebox masking their conversation. “I’m a bitch. I’m loud, annoying, and I can scream all day at someone and sure it annoys them, sure it pisses it off, but it doesn’t scare them, not the tough ones; they yell back, they scream back, they swear back, whatever. You? You stand there like a frigid bitch watching everything and they don’t know what you’re going to do. Maybe you’ll stare at them all day, maybe you’ll go batshit crazy and break their nose or stab out their kidney, they don’t know and it scares the shit out of them. And I don't know if you even realize it, but you smile, damn, you smile at them. And that really fucks them up. All a fuckin’ mind game and we're the masters at it. Brilliant ain’t it? Hey, pass the ketchup.”
Ginia passed her the ketchup and stole a French fry, silently ruminating. The next time they had a target locked up for interrogation, Ginia smiled a little larger and a little sweeter as she fixed ocean blue eyes on him while Erika railed and raved at him, giving the occasional flex of her leather-gloved hand.
He cracked in five minutes.
Somewhere along the way the standard good cop/bad cop routine Erika and Ginia pulled turned into a bad cop/worse cop scenario and it surprised Ginia to be typecast as the worst cop. Erika was the loud one, the pushy one, the one vocally threatening to beat someone’s face while puffing away on a cigarette and dropping ashes and cigarette butts onto their target’s lap. She annoyed, irritated, pushed and pulled every button she could find all while they spat and swore back. Ginia, the silent observer, stood in the background and gave the occasional flex and stretch of her fingers and straightened out her shirt, an ever-present smile on the front of a frigid bitch.
In the event she had to snap a few bones, it surprised her how quickly their target caved and gave the information they wanted. When Erika snapped fingers, they screamed and yelled and fired insults back at her and refused to speak, but sometimes all it took was her quietly walking over and taking off her glove to get a stubborn subject to begin talking. By the time she broke their pointer finger with a swift and somewhat satisfying snap, they were blabbing out information.
“Makes sense if you ask me,” Erika replied over a large plate of French fries when Ginia asked her about it while they ate dinner in a diner, noisy chatter from the other tables and a blaring jukebox masking their conversation. “I’m a bitch. I’m loud, annoying, and I can scream all day at someone and sure it annoys them, sure it pisses it off, but it doesn’t scare them, not the tough ones; they yell back, they scream back, they swear back, whatever. You? You stand there like a frigid bitch watching everything and they don’t know what you’re going to do. Maybe you’ll stare at them all day, maybe you’ll go batshit crazy and break their nose or stab out their kidney, they don’t know and it scares the shit out of them. And I don't know if you even realize it, but you smile, damn, you smile at them. And that really fucks them up. All a fuckin’ mind game and we're the masters at it. Brilliant ain’t it? Hey, pass the ketchup.”
Ginia passed her the ketchup and stole a French fry, silently ruminating. The next time they had a target locked up for interrogation, Ginia smiled a little larger and a little sweeter as she fixed ocean blue eyes on him while Erika railed and raved at him, giving the occasional flex of her leather-gloved hand.
He cracked in five minutes.