On my way to the bar, San Pascualito nodded at me, the slightest tip of his chin. He ran a rough crew and was no angel, but we had something of an understanding-for starters, War and I were two of the only people in town who knew the truth about him. That he wasn’t just a mobster with a flair for the theatrical. That he didn’t actually need paint to look skeletal, if he so chose.
Gods were real, and sometimes they looked almost human.
LOOOOOVE THIS.
“Helene ain’t missing,” he said dismissively. “Who hired you? Her bitch of a sister?”
...Jack, I don't think I like you.
I reached up and carefully pulled the cigarette from his mouth with the tips of my curved claws. Drew back my lips from canines that were elongating, sharpening into fangs rather than teeth, and met his eyes firmly as mine shifted, the pupils dilating as the colors and lights of the room altered in hue and vibrancy. “I’m not a good enemy to have, Mr. Malone.”
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“Before you start jumping down my throat, Meriweather, maybe
( ... )
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Gods were real, and sometimes they looked almost human.
LOOOOOVE THIS.
“Helene ain’t missing,” he said dismissively. “Who hired you? Her bitch of a sister?”
...Jack, I don't think I like you.
I reached up and carefully pulled the cigarette from his mouth with the tips of my curved claws. Drew back my lips from canines that were elongating, sharpening into fangs rather than teeth, and met his eyes firmly as mine shifted, the pupils dilating as the colors and lights of the room altered in hue and vibrancy. “I’m not a good enemy to have, Mr. Malone.”
fklajsl;dfkjawoperualfjalwkvmkarjofjajf;lwe
“Before you start jumping down my throat, Meriweather, maybe ( ... )
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