[he doesn't expect to be released so easily (Badou expects nothing to come easily, absolutely nothing), so red sneakers stutter an extra step down on the church steps with the force of his drag away. at least, he doesn't fall, at least he doesn't eat pavement (at least features a lot Badou's life)]
[the broken look on her face doesn't hurt him, like it should, but it does stop him long enough for more words to fight out of teeth that want to trap them inside]
Ya wanna fight the goddamn Underground? Ya wanna fight the fucking Below? Surprise of the fuckin' year, you ain't the only one. But you? Ain't lost a single goddamn thing to it. You ain't lost your voice or your eye or your fucking family. Fuck you for thinkin' you got a single goddamn say in whether I try ta get anything back, fucking rip that place to shreds, or get ripped ta shreds my fucking self.
[another drag on the cigarette, short and deep, making embers flare, and he drops the stub to the pavement, grinding it under his sneaker like he usually grinds her concern]
If ya wanna help, if you're so goddamn set on it, crack open the Landlord's head for me, an' get me the fuck outta here, an' away from shithead hypocrites like you.
[she's furious and miserable and shattered, she's shaking with it, but she keeps her back turned on him now, lets his words fall on her and weigh her shoulders down even more until it feels like they might snap under the pressure. but she can take it. she can.
(can she? really?)
carol has never been good at knowing when to run away, or knowing how, but right now she wants to. she doesn't know what else to do.]
Fine.
[there's no heat to it anymore. every tense muscle slumps, and she starts to walk away.]
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Re: action
[the broken look on her face doesn't hurt him, like it should, but it does stop him long enough for more words to fight out of teeth that want to trap them inside]
Ya wanna fight the goddamn Underground? Ya wanna fight the fucking Below? Surprise of the fuckin' year, you ain't the only one. But you? Ain't lost a single goddamn thing to it. You ain't lost your voice or your eye or your fucking family. Fuck you for thinkin' you got a single goddamn say in whether I try ta get anything back, fucking rip that place to shreds, or get ripped ta shreds my fucking self.
[another drag on the cigarette, short and deep, making embers flare, and he drops the stub to the pavement, grinding it under his sneaker like he usually grinds her concern]
If ya wanna help, if you're so goddamn set on it, crack open the Landlord's head for me, an' get me the fuck outta here, an' away from shithead hypocrites like you.
Re: action
(can she? really?)
carol has never been good at knowing when to run away, or knowing how, but right now she wants to. she doesn't know what else to do.]
Fine.
[there's no heat to it anymore. every tense muscle slumps, and she starts to walk away.]
Re: action