guess it'll be us in a fist fight in heaven. i'll be right there.
[ it's late, probably too late, but gator's in his truck and on the road quick. if this is going to happen, this whole breaking-into-an-abandoned mall thing, he knows he has to be there. besides, if the arcade is still in commission from the last time he got a breaking and entering, then it might be... fun. ]
[ who operates on normal hours anyway? she takes her time rolling tight, waste-free little darts that burn nice and even, only one of them specifically dangerous. she doesn't roll much for herself these days but she still gets them packed up in an old cartridge tube and herself outside by the time he pulls up to the side of the theater. ]
For you. [ she offers the tube out first thing with the door open. a peace offering? maybe she's just nice like that. ]
[ gator's brow quirks as she gets inside of the truck, and he takes the tube from between her fingers. he then pops one out with his fingertips, sliding it between his lips. he doesn't light it yet, as he knows better than to trust which one is pure couch-melt from the ones that aren't. he glances at her again, then pulls out and back onto the road. the abandoned mall isn't too far, so gator rolls down both windows. ]
It's just up here. We ain't stayin' all night, either.
[ he says this around the joint, then digs into his pocket for his lighter. when he finds it, one hand still on the wheel, he then sparks it up. taking a long drag and blowing it out of the window, he holds the joint out for her. ]
[ she scoffs, halfway to something shaped like betrayal, but takes the joint all the same. ]
Hey, if you need your hand held.
[ but it's less barbed than usual, for whatever reason. she takes a decent hit off the joint, sucking a breath in through her teeth as she offers it back to him, and tips her face towards her window on the exhale.
the one joint is dangerous. the others are just blends of what she's got on hand at the moment, a range of opportunities. hard to say which one it is, even by taste. ]
[ gator takes the joint back and inhales slow but deep. he rolls the smoke over his tongue, blowing smoke rings out of the window. he glances over, face twisted in an expression of irritation. his brows knit. ]
I don't need no one fuckin' holdin' my hand. I just don't trust that this ain't the good shit.
[ with the joint still between his lips, he pulls into the parking lot of the abandoned mall. he pulls in to a vacant ( they're all vacant ) spot, one near the blocked-off door. ]
Yeah, there's fuckin' squatters here and shit.
[ another pull from the joint, then he hands it back over. it's already starting to take effect - gator feels a bit swimmy, eyelids heavier than before. yep, it's strong. he climbs out of the truck, slamming the door, then slips his gun from its holster on his thigh. he aims, eyes narrowing, before he holsters it again. you never know what kind of bullshit might be in there. ]
[ she tucks the joint into the corner of her mouth and lets herself out of the truck, pausing briefly to assess the stakes with the gun loose before she draws up alongside him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. ]
First instinct is shooting?
[ not like squatting's at the top of the list of laws she's broken, but it's definitely on there. ]
Good to know you're cool.
[ a sharp grin and she sets off for the door with another quick drag, holding the joint out in her fingers towards him to take if he wants to catch up. ]
[ gator glances over, gun holstered, before he takes the joint back. he takes a hit or two, inhaling, then hands it back over. he blows the smoke upward, then rolls his eyes. of course his first instinct is to shoot. that's what he's been taught. the sheriff doesn't like it when gator doesn't flex his jaws every now and then. ]
You don't know what's in there, now do you?
[ stepping up onto the sidewalk in front of the blocked-off door, gator gives it a good, swift, powerful kick. another, and it falls to pieces, the wood splintering. he moves it aside, glancing in, the smell of dust and decay entering his nostrils. he backs his head up a bit, then takes the joint back. ]
Ladies fuckin' first.
[ another puff, then another, before gator hands it back for her to kill off. ]
[ there's something about climbing into crumbling, abandoned places that makes her feel at home in a way that's waaaay more introspective than she's willing to examine now (or ever). even just the open door is an invitation into something inherently forbidden and she can't help the laugh as she accepts the joint back. she draws on it hard until the cherry singes her fingertips and chokes back a cough against the harshness as she drops it, toes it out with her boot. ]
Lemme know if you need your hand held.
[ on the exhale, coughing to clear her throat (which kinda ruins the tough guy moment but whatever).
she ducks in through the door, maybe more eager than she should be given that it's just an old building. it's an old side hall, one of the offshoots of the main trunk, dim with the bulk of the windows boarded over but just barely bright enough to see where everything is starting to sink in on itself without maintenance. she knocks a boot against a toppled store sign that had been propped against the wall once, hands shoved into her pockets. ]
How long has this place been closed, do you know? Ten years?
[ gator rolls his eyes as she stomps out the end of the joint. he's feeling fuzzy, but in a pleasant way, his shoulders dropping from their tension. he climbs in, boots to dirty floor. he glances around, holding his nose briefly before he lets out a long woop! ]
Goddamn, it's horrible in here. I ain't been to this place, hell, I don't fuckin' remember. Probably when I first started patrollin'.
[ he's much more chatty under the influence, walking down the opening of the mall and down a few stairs. he turns, offering his hand, brows raising. ]
Unless you're the fuckin' one who needs their hand held.
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@ π½πΎπ³π΄π°ππ·.
guess it'll be us in a fist fight in heaven.
i'll be right there.
[ it's late, probably too late, but gator's in his truck and on the road quick. if this is going to happen, this whole breaking-into-an-abandoned mall thing, he knows he has to be there. besides, if the arcade is still in commission from the last time he got a breaking and entering, then it might be... fun. ]
hell yeaaaaah thank you
For you. [ she offers the tube out first thing with the door open. a peace offering? maybe she's just nice like that. ]
no subject
It's just up here. We ain't stayin' all night, either.
[ he says this around the joint, then digs into his pocket for his lighter. when he finds it, one hand still on the wheel, he then sparks it up. taking a long drag and blowing it out of the window, he holds the joint out for her. ]
I ain't doin' this alone.
finallyyy with a computer again
Hey, if you need your hand held.
[ but it's less barbed than usual, for whatever reason. she takes a decent hit off the joint, sucking a breath in through her teeth as she offers it back to him, and tips her face towards her window on the exhale.
the one joint is dangerous. the others are just blends of what she's got on hand at the moment, a range of opportunities. hard to say which one it is, even by taste. ]
How come you were out here before? Cop shit?
ye ye ye.
I don't need no one fuckin' holdin' my hand. I just don't trust that this ain't the good shit.
[ with the joint still between his lips, he pulls into the parking lot of the abandoned mall. he pulls in to a vacant ( they're all vacant ) spot, one near the blocked-off door. ]
Yeah, there's fuckin' squatters here and shit.
[ another pull from the joint, then he hands it back over. it's already starting to take effect - gator feels a bit swimmy, eyelids heavier than before. yep, it's strong. he climbs out of the truck, slamming the door, then slips his gun from its holster on his thigh. he aims, eyes narrowing, before he holsters it again. you never know what kind of bullshit might be in there. ]
You ready?
no subject
First instinct is shooting?
[ not like squatting's at the top of the list of laws she's broken, but it's definitely on there. ]
Good to know you're cool.
[ a sharp grin and she sets off for the door with another quick drag, holding the joint out in her fingers towards him to take if he wants to catch up. ]
no subject
You don't know what's in there, now do you?
[ stepping up onto the sidewalk in front of the blocked-off door, gator gives it a good, swift, powerful kick. another, and it falls to pieces, the wood splintering. he moves it aside, glancing in, the smell of dust and decay entering his nostrils. he backs his head up a bit, then takes the joint back. ]
Ladies fuckin' first.
[ another puff, then another, before gator hands it back for her to kill off. ]
and then ofc im slow af SORRY
Lemme know if you need your hand held.
[ on the exhale, coughing to clear her throat (which kinda ruins the tough guy moment but whatever).
she ducks in through the door, maybe more eager than she should be given that it's just an old building. it's an old side hall, one of the offshoots of the main trunk, dim with the bulk of the windows boarded over but just barely bright enough to see where everything is starting to sink in on itself without maintenance. she knocks a boot against a toppled store sign that had been propped against the wall once, hands shoved into her pockets. ]
How long has this place been closed, do you know? Ten years?
not as slow as me.
Goddamn, it's horrible in here. I ain't been to this place, hell, I don't fuckin' remember. Probably when I first started patrollin'.
[ he's much more chatty under the influence, walking down the opening of the mall and down a few stairs. he turns, offering his hand, brows raising. ]
Unless you're the fuckin' one who needs their hand held.