Oct 29, 2020 16:12:33 GMT -5
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There was one thing Jaime had noticed since the outbreak turned their world up on its head; the decent people got more decent, and the… well, as her grandmother would have said ‘bar-stewards’, had got even more cruel. Jaime assumed, from the grunt that left the guy in front, that a) he was a douche-bag, and b) he was the leader of this gang of douche-bags.
The smirk that crossed his face caused a further sense of unease to career through her body, travelling the length of her spine and causing her fingertips to tingle. She’d read about this, it was her body flooding with adrenaline, ready to engage its fight, flight or freeze routine. She’d never felt it in this sort of situation before, only when she’d been in trouble and heard her father or mother’s roar of her name. She’d always used flight then.
A frown crossed her brow as she continued to stare at him, his words and tone making her jaw set, begging to be defiant. Oh yeah, she was unfortunate, and lady luck was most definitely not on her side tonight. Then, and then, he took his earpiece out and turned it off.
The words were back, slamming through her mind like when Bill realised he’d lost yet another hand of poker at game night, back in the club house. You knew it was bad when even other bikers told him to cool it. Yet, here she was, hearing his phantom words as her own. That was never a good sign, that was a sign that meant heavy stuff was about to go down and he didn’t want his superiors to know. She’d heard stories but figured they were overreactions, surely the city couldn’t be looking away when their citizens were being accosted by their own military!? Surely!!?
She scoffed at herself silently, there was a reason she’d been raised to have little trust in the police, why would the military be any different? She could barely contain the eye roll as she pointed to her bag, ”ID, sure thing, officer.” Her voice dripped her own version of sarcasm, saccharine sweet as she slowly reached towards the zipper, ”Just gotta reach in the bag to get it, no sudden movements.” She wondered if she could get her phone to record, the thing couldn’t call or get any data, but she might be able to get the camera on.
”Juuust a minute, it’s in here somewhere…” That phone be cursed to the seventh circle of technology hell! May it come back in its next life as the metal tip on this guy’s rectal thermometer. ”Got it!” Well, her ID at least, not the phone which had disappeared into the dark depths of her bag. ”Here you go…” Holding it out, Jaime matched his fake smile, not handing it to him, just… holding it out there.
There was one thing Jaime had noticed since the outbreak turned their world up on its head; the decent people got more decent, and the… well, as her grandmother would have said ‘bar-stewards’, had got even more cruel. Jaime assumed, from the grunt that left the guy in front, that a) he was a douche-bag, and b) he was the leader of this gang of douche-bags.
The smirk that crossed his face caused a further sense of unease to career through her body, travelling the length of her spine and causing her fingertips to tingle. She’d read about this, it was her body flooding with adrenaline, ready to engage its fight, flight or freeze routine. She’d never felt it in this sort of situation before, only when she’d been in trouble and heard her father or mother’s roar of her name. She’d always used flight then.
A frown crossed her brow as she continued to stare at him, his words and tone making her jaw set, begging to be defiant. Oh yeah, she was unfortunate, and lady luck was most definitely not on her side tonight. Then, and then, he took his earpiece out and turned it off.
The words were back, slamming through her mind like when Bill realised he’d lost yet another hand of poker at game night, back in the club house. You knew it was bad when even other bikers told him to cool it. Yet, here she was, hearing his phantom words as her own. That was never a good sign, that was a sign that meant heavy stuff was about to go down and he didn’t want his superiors to know. She’d heard stories but figured they were overreactions, surely the city couldn’t be looking away when their citizens were being accosted by their own military!? Surely!!?
She scoffed at herself silently, there was a reason she’d been raised to have little trust in the police, why would the military be any different? She could barely contain the eye roll as she pointed to her bag, ”ID, sure thing, officer.” Her voice dripped her own version of sarcasm, saccharine sweet as she slowly reached towards the zipper, ”Just gotta reach in the bag to get it, no sudden movements.” She wondered if she could get her phone to record, the thing couldn’t call or get any data, but she might be able to get the camera on.
”Juuust a minute, it’s in here somewhere…” That phone be cursed to the seventh circle of technology hell! May it come back in its next life as the metal tip on this guy’s rectal thermometer. ”Got it!” Well, her ID at least, not the phone which had disappeared into the dark depths of her bag. ”Here you go…” Holding it out, Jaime matched his fake smile, not handing it to him, just… holding it out there.
[attr="class","TAG"]479 WORDS Aaron Lowell
