[ 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.