strikercannonâ:
euphemisms , idioms and common phrases flew in one ear and out the other . sarcasm was something the oldest cannon never learned nor understood , and so his wrinkled eyes squinted in response to manuelâs words . his right-hand man , striker would have done anything in order to bring in business .. and that included parading around in a blonde wig and fake breasts , despite his personal vendetta against the queen of country . â well , i ainât much of a singer , captain , but iâll sure as hell try . i know the words to a few cash songs but i ainât the biggest lover oâ dolly . can we try dressinâ me like the man in black instead ?? â it would be the first time striker had ever worn a real suit , and likely the last â unless somebody took one for the team and fell in love with him . for that moment , he wouldnât hold his breath . â thatâs one fine name for a horse you got there . tennesseeâs finest , â the cannons couldnât be more obvious ex-tennessee citizens if they tried .
a dust cloud obscured his vision , and in that flash of sandy smoke manuel had disappeared like some cheap magicianâs trick . â youâre a fuckinâ â just âcus youâre my boss donât mean you can fight dirty !! â but manu was already out of earshot , having left striker in the dust of jack danielsâ hooves . the cannon code had taught the oldest brother of morals , of the true meaning of fighting fair , yet being born with swinging fists had equipped him with the materials to fight back . boots scuffing the famished ground he abandoned the children ( for their parents would find them eventually , right ?? ) in favour of the barn , grabbing the first set of reins his eyes focused upon , single-footing the stirrups to throw himself onto the back of one of their many horses . with shrill hee-yaw the reins were pulled taught , speeding from the barn , his steed sprinting at full pelt to catch up with the competitor . growing up with two brothers , there was a competitive streak that ran as deep as their shared DNA ; manu might not have been one of strikerâs siblings , but he was held in his crosshair like one . hooves slamming against ground , he was soon within yelling distance , â â donât fuck with a cowboy , boss , or youâll get stung !! â
a man of many charms and the joking demeanor that rolled off manuelâs tongue was still to be considered a phenomenon that occurred under rare occasions. still, it was no surprise that he would loosen the knots that kept his authority posture on displayâ the mighty owner of puhlmanâs ranchâ when he rode next to his partner, who he have learned not to underestimate in the least. â why, striker, the cheesy lyrics rub ya off the wrong way or what? â a click of his tongue, lips twisting to hide a playful smile. â sure we can. black hat to match ân allâ but iâll have to herd your admirers all the way tâ the other side of the ranch, â while he took pride on his ability to call unwanted attention whenever he visited the local bar, he knew a stetson could easily steal some looks. call it experienceâ or bad luck. another pat to the horseâs mane, pride in his features at strikerâs admiration for the name, before he makes the run for victory.
a lame move, manu knows, for the man of honor he swears to be, but he knows itâs all fun & gamesâ until he tugs at the wrong nerve & he hears the cowboyâs string of curses chasing him. he laughs, of course, because he has the upper hand in the situation. had it been the other way around & the only son of the gonzĂĄles not used to the sibling banter would be muttering the same curses as the older striker. he pulls at the reins & hooves momentarily dig into the ground, a couple blocks away from the main busy street, both the mount & the cowboy come to a halt, allowing their chaser to catch up. â aye, â peeking over his shoulder with a grin that plays off his innocent demeanour, daniels slows down on his jogging. â donât taunt a snake or youâll get bitten! â a laugh strikes the air & he tips his hat, both horses now walking side by side. â you gotta get those reflexes up nâ running, my man. youâre lucky âs me who youâre bettinâ with or someone might just make the most of you runninâ slow, â a shake of his head & a pat on the shoulder, one an older brother would give the youngest. â âm kidding. letâs get you a drink. â
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dusohaprilsâ:
  jack of all trades, master of none. isnât that the old adage? the former moniker has been attached to april for as long as she could remember, dating back to volleying her way through several different jobs around seattle. she insists itâs a lesson in balance, though a more discerning eye might question her outright refusal to settle into one job â a curious mirror to her evasive romantic life, though sheâs even more defensive about that. fun, everything in life ought to be fun, and if that means late nights at rocket radio followed by early mornings at feel good records or afternoons walking dogs then so be it. she doesnât need to master anything if she doesnât intend to say for too long, right? just passing through, always her favorite line, but sheâs forgotten when it stopped being true.Â
         all this and more had been quietly dwelling in her mind as she awaited manuâs arrival, his sleepy canine dozed off in her lap while she idly sipped on discounted wine from the liquor mart. itâs a reverie sheâs thankful to be broken from when she finally catches a knock at her door, though itâs the heavy drag of his boots that really gives the cowboy away. âmm, popâs here,â she coos to sweet marshal, whose only response is a muted yawn and a lick to the palm of her hand. itâs only when she rises to her feet that april notes that sheâs comfortably tipsy, humming patsy cline as she saunters towards the door and attempts to fix a frown on her face. âand just who do you think you are? iâve been waitinâ up all night for you,â she eases into the role of a jilted wife easily, but sheâs only capable of keeping the ruse for a moment longer before dissolving into soft giggles. ânah, itâs no problem. marshal happens to be my favorite, though donât go telling the poodles at the park about that, okay?â she steps aside, ushering manu inside and beaming when his pup approaches, tail wagging and all. âlooks like someone missed you, even though i ought to snitch and tell him you were having fun without us.â she wrinkles her nose and offers a playful pout, lightly pinching the manâs shoulder before swaying her way towards the kitchen. âyou can make it up to us and stay for a drink, though,â aprilâs already pouring herself a fresh glass, mischievous gaze fixed upon him in gentle challenge, âunless youâre too tired from all that business of yours.â
freelancing around life had always been an easy choice, the most comfortable without a doubt. when it came down to both consistency & commitment to be part of manuâs life, he was certain there was still a long road ahead of himâ like lazy horse riding down a path towards the horizon of an uncertain future, he dwelled between moving fast, not settling down, keeping himself busy with anything & anyone. but that, much like the stories april had kept to herself, were a story to tell over a drink. in the end, it was no surprise the lonesome cowboy was untameable ( a dramatic way to describe himself but one he had heard many use when referring to himâ amongst other terms )
the untamed soul makes its way up the stairs, boots lazily dragging against wooden floor & when the door swings open & itâs the woman playing the role of concerned wife that greets him, a laugh erupts from his lungs. fine, he thinks, your husband is back from war. â eyâ really? & here i was thinkinâ youâd be one hell of a happy widow if i didnât come back â he slides the hat off in chivalry, dusting it off with one hand & shaking his head with a chuckle.  â lips are sealed, sweets. how can you not love this face? i can���t blame ya â  squatting down to greet the pile of fur, scratching behind his ears just the enough amount of time to earn a few licks to his own face, manu finally stands back up to his feet. â me having fun without either of you? nah, â lips twist into a playful pout, one that mirrors her own. â if you wanted to herd our new girls from one side of the ranch to the otherâ you couldâve given me a call, mhm? weâre always in the need of extra hands â & while that was true, he knew that he worked better off alone. head tilts to one side at the pinch of his shoulderâ to him, a goodbye that was to set him on his way. he leans down, adjusting the collar around marshalâs neck before he pauses at the offer. an eyebrow raises, playful smirk playing on his lips. â ay, cariĂąoâ me duele. bold of you to assume iâm too tired for a drink â he dramatically places a hand over his chest, following her into the kitchen to lean against the counter. â iâd bore you out if i told you about my business. tell me âbout your day â
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to : @marinera-stella
location : puhlman ranch
summer striked the desert like the devil himself had strode into town, heat waves rising from concrete & soil, dissolving into the suffocating air. with that time of the season came waves of tourists eager to know the supposed crash sites & while manu considered himself to be patient ( when he wanted to be ) he wasnât the one to give tours. not to tourists, that is. locals, on the other handâ there wasnât anything he wouldnât do to earn a reputation. a selfish thought maybe, but one that had paid off throughout the years he had lived there.
today, showing off what the ranch could offer during those trying times of summer was at the top of his list as he showed mia around. after walking from one end of the terrain to the other, manu comes to a halt infront one of the many barns, hands placed on his hips & his head cocked to one side. â alright, querida, eso es todo. â he concludes the tour, â these are the stables, where we keep the best of our best. â he smiles, proud at the small wooden building & the animals inhabiting inside. one glance to his horse & he pats his side. â the kids will love âem⌠do they know how to ride? do you know? â a genuine question, one that naturally sounds like a challenge or the start of one of his infamous bad ideas.
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outgoing txt. â adiya & manu
ADIYA: Aww, you're welcome.. and I can't speak for that handsome stranger but I'm a boss ass bitch too. The Nicki Minaj and PTAF remix version.
ADIYA: There is nothing romantic about doing it behind an arcade unless Pac-Man gets you off. Which, hey, more power too ya.
ADIYA: I have charm!!! As well as a GPA that is out of this world and a MAGNITUDE of underwater creature facts that would knock someone's socks off on the first hook up. Pun intended.
MANU: the handsome stranger who shall not be named lost his bonus boss ass bitch points when he left me hangin'. you've got the lead! i gotta listen to that remix now.
MANU: hell no, no, not pac-man. the neon lights maybe? they can set up the mood just right if you try hard enough... well, damn. why am i talking about this with you?
MANU: i ain't sayin' you don't! romance takes a lotta charm & i dare say you're on the right road.
MANU: alright, big brains, now you just gotta prove yourself before you keep braggin'. gimme your best shot. i'm intrigued on how much you can tell me 'bout sea creatures.
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@strikercannon
I love that they share one braincell.
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to : @laraxfitzgerald
location : galactica gift shop
locals, visitors, tourists. manu commonly found himself fascinated by all the different kinds of people that he had gotten the opportunity to meet in the small town of his. well, it wasnât exactly hisâ he hadnât been born nor raised in roswell but those memories & whatever threads that still had him tied to his hometown back in arizona were soon to be cut off. for a man like him, honoring the life he was building by himself meant far more than remembering what his life used to be. perhaps he still felt homesick, feeling like a tourist more often than not, & maybe that was the reason why he enjoyed visiting tourist attractions, to allow himself to stare in both awe & wonder like he didnât know anything about the place he now called home.
& because he liked the places tourists frequented. they were fun. much like the point of interest his ranch had turned into because of his & his menâs efforts at drawing the attention, the galactica gift shop remained a busy establishment where he could satisfy his guilty pleasure of browsing through the ugly souvenirs & the curious faces of the visitors that couldnât seem to decide on what to buy. with some luck, he also thought he could even charm a tourist with that infamous sweet talking of his. he is looking around the store until one of the customers catches his attentionâ the newest face in town, he clearly remembered her moving in a couple months ago. â iâd stop thinking twice nâ buy bothâ the cap and the shirt. the alien green matches your eyes. â
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nikkaplaysâ:
kannika bats those butterfly lashes to heaven ,   flashing her  impossible doe eyes ,   black as stray in a backalley ,  and just as reliable .   the flames of a smile flicker about  ,    only ever a spark ignited by those implications ,   and her clawed hands loosen its grip on his shirt ,   not guite releasing him from its clutches just yet .  â   luck    is just the planning you donât see !   if youâre sweet to me ,   i promise you only the  good kind .  â   she purls ,  the corners of her mouth reeled into an impish ghost ;   rumors are just another weapon to yield in order to get what you want ,  after all .  sheâd rather let the wolves feast on bullshit than keep them starved .   â  are you telling you donât have a horse for us to flee on?  with that moustache?  â- thatâs disappointing .  i was hoping for a memorable exit .  â
he is looking at her almost too incredulously, falling for the catch far too easy. â aha, sure. iâll be sweet to ya just âcause i donât want in whatever youâre involved in, ya hear? â he spins around almost too graciously, his back now facing the inminent intruder & his hands resting on top of hers. not as broad as the rest of the men in the market but enough to cover her in case a punch is delivered, manu stands as an improvised protective barrier. just great. â you sayinâ iâm not a real cowboy? i have an alien horse parked on the back, â he cracks a joke, loud enough for her hunter to hear, pearly whites peeking from behind the moustache. â i canât promise a memorable exit butâ itâs a heroic save, if you ask me, â he begins walking away from the man breathing down their necks. â what dâyou do to him? â
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ambvtchiousâ:
a long silence outstretches between them ,  extending an invitation for quiet understanding to take a backseat  ,  nearing the borders of tranquility .  she tips back her chin ,   rabbited nose upturned ,  mouth slightly agape ;   as though thereâs a question hanging at the tip of her tongue :   â   what about you ââ  will you write one for me ?  â  docility unspools from velvety tongue ;  pleading almost ,   undeniably coquettish .   intrusions such as these seldom go amiss from adelaideâs little black book ,  in which the smallest of infractions can result in the crulest of punishments .  she keeps count of every look ,  every forgotten appointment ,  every dismissive gesture others might brush off like a speckle of dust .   the truth is adelaide loves doling out punishment ,   like an old testament god  â except sheâs decided ,  on whim ,  that she likes this one .  in a heartbeat ,     an unspoken invitation to flirt with danger ,  spindly fingers drop her own glass into the mouth of the abyss below ,  reaching beyond the bridge of his nose to snatch his own instead ,  close enough to assault it with its feminine fragrance ,    â   cheers ,  â    the cold rim cushions against pillowy lips ,  strong notes of oak and caramel immediately detected .  her tongue favors sweetness ,  itâs true :   bellinis , cranberry cocktails ,   white russians if itâs feeling spicy!  â  or does it ?  maybe itâd merely been easier to convince her body into accepting pre-determined assumptions and infused expectations without so much rebuttal .   regardless ,   that whiskey is   his  &  therefore , she wants it  .   wants it because it doesnât really belong to her .  because nothing will ever hold a candle to making something your own  .  Â
victory sets on him momentarily, satisfied smile playing on his lips. if he had prevented her from falling into an abyss of uncertainty with those words, he would take the win with no hesitation. â i am no songwriter, darlinâ, butâ â words hang in the air, a melodic hum rising to fill in the doubt. manuel gonzĂĄles was a man of many talents & while singing was definitely not one of them, his pride was heavier than the feeling of embarassment. random melody surges in his mind & slips out through his lips, â iâm alright with a slow burn. takin' your time, let the world turn~ youâre gonna do it your way, it'll be alright, if we burn it down & it takes all night, it's a slow burn~ â another victoryâ to his ears, that isâ adds to the imaginary scoreboard in his head that strokes his ego. tongue tentatively runs across his teeth beneath his lips, savoring the taste of the drink that would be long gone when his lips dip down for the last sipâ for the last few drops of happiness, like he likes to call them. even as one of the few pleasures of life after a day under the suffocating heat of the new mexican sun is stolen from him, he doesnât falter. a raspy chuckle escapes his lips, eyes shift into a glare at the swift & clean steal, a bold move, even for someone like himself. â you have one feisty spirit, querida â an obvious observation, shoulders fall in defeat as his payment is slid through the bar. â you wanna steal somethinâ else? â
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strikercannonâ:
â hey , hey !! those hay bales ainât for climinâ . what dâya think this is , dollywood ?! â the cowboyâs voice was hoarse from rounding up tourists like they were sheep ; he had been herding strangers from one side of the ranch to the other , showing them routes to the â supposed â crash site that wouldnât trample the crops , ensuring big bertha ( his best friend in cow form ) was calm despite unfamiliar visitors . although him and his brothers never did visit the country queenâs tennessee theme park before they left he imagined dollywood wouldnât stray too far from the squealing , clambering youngsters begging to pet the chickens of feed the goats â striker wasnât cut out for the marshalling of children , instead preferring the hard labour of slinging manure or repairing faulty wooden fences .
hauling one of the many little ones off the steps of a tractor , dark eyes caught the attention of his boss . â howdy , capân . i reckon they ainât got one brain cell shared between âem . theyâd probably fall for a big green horse â go grab some paint from fornax and get slappinâ , then charge âem a dollar entry . â filthy palms patted against at thrifted leviâs . a tip of his wide-brimmed stetson bid farewell to the kids at his feet , those sticky fingers that tugged at his snakeskin boots or failed , thanks to comedic height differences , to swipe the hat clean off his head . â iâm sick of these damn cooter-flutes gettinâ their paws all over me , iâm in . we ridinâ ?? â
an airy laugh strikes the air at the mention of good olâ dollywood & even if manu hadnât been there himself, ironically enough for a man like him, he knew he & his men could do something better with the ranch. â take out your wig, maybe a button up blouseâ youâre singing next time theyâre here. we gotta keep the entertainment fresh. â a wink, one that leaves up to strikerâs instinct to decide if he was being serious or not. for a moment, mind wanders off in the possible refurbishment of the propertyâ bright lights adorning the trees & the long due tourist center settled by the entrance. how horrible. if he wanted to work at a theme park, he would need to have patience & when he hardly managed to look after his child, ( that little scruffy lookinâ border collie he insisted was his own blood ) that wasnât something for him to ever consider... so he just left striker to deal with the little gremlins around the ranch. a fair deal.
as said cowboy hauled the children off the hazardous places of the property, manu politely smiles to the trasspassers. â you bet i will. we could make a fortune! donât think jack daniels here would mind, aye? â another pat to the horseâs mane & he smiles. most of the time, he didnât care about the moneyâ but on days like thisâ â cooter-flutes? donât let âem hear ya, â a laugh as he gives him a nod, playfulness starting to seep into his eyes. â yeah, we ridinâ⌠last one there buys the round, â a click of his tongue as he sets the rules of the game they had played far too many times. â on three. one⌠three! â & he unfairly takes off, galloping away with mind set on ( hopefully ) his price: striker cannon inviting all rounds.
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to : @ohaprils
location : greystone complex
the familiar sun at high noon was relentless, pale brick blocks of the complex blurred through the waves of rowswellâs afternoon heat. manu had grown familiar to the suffocating weather, it had never really bothered him, but he was glad whenever it dispersed when night fell. even on days like this, when he would come back home later than expected, way past midnight. tanned skin roughened as he worked his day away under the rays of sunlight at the ranch, all while his trusty companion was left behind in any available apartment with anyone willing to dogsitâ one certain girl being the unusually most motivated to take up on the task.
as he jogged up the set of stairs & with marshal as the least of his concerns, his mind seeks for a reasonable excuse that would make him sound less of an irresponsible dog dad. knocking on her door, hands slide into his pockets as he keeps pondering at his excusesâ âmy horse trippedâ. he has no time to scoff to himself when the door is opening, brown eyes widening. â heyy⌠â he exclaims in a sing-song cadence, casually leaning against the doorframe with a guilty smile. this wasnât the first time manu had lost track of time nor the last time april was going to have to deal with his lack of an organized work schedule, but that still didnât mean he didnât feel pressured to offer an apology. or an attempt at one, that is. â i know i was supposed to come back four hours ago, but⌠â tilting his head forward to hide a grin, â yâknow, businessââ what he really meant was staying up until late sitting on a porch somewhere in the ranch, perhaps drowning a bottle of whiskey & completely forgetting about his four legged child. he looks around the small apartment from his spot on the doorway, shoulders shrugging, â iâll pay you double for stickinâ with that fleabag longer than agreed, yeah? â
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to : @strikercannon
location : puhlman ranch
another day, another supposed alien sighting had dragged the unlucky amount of far too many tourists into the ranch & even if that was a not so foreign thing to see for the men working there, it did mean having to ride from one end of the terrain to the other, making sure no fanatic jumped where they werenât supposed toâ preventing the animals from being scared awayâ but it also meant having some fun. dealing with tourists was manuelâs best & most common argument to justify taking a well deserved break, make up some alien stories the tourists might as well just buy & get himself & his men a drink. any opportunity he could find to do anything close to any of that, heâll take.
â ey, peopleâ keep movinâ. nothinâ to see here, â one hand waves around absentmindedly while the other grips the reins as he stirs on the horse, away from the people to face striker. he is grinning cockily, pearly whites shinning like a revolver before a bullet is fired. â if they keep this up, i might dip jack in green paint nâ call him an alien horse or somethinâ, â patting said animalâs side with an airy chuckle, he briefly leans over the saddle, eyes squinting under the sunlight. â you wanna head out, compadre? call it a day? âcause i certainly do. â
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nikkaplaysâ:
starter: open to everyone! @roswellstartersâââ
location: go wild
â  sorryâ- sorry!  actually â- do you mind standing here for a minute?   thanks, â    she takes advantage of the collision, angling her lean body in such a way as to make it disappear behind the shape of them.  usually sheâd be far more courteous, but desperate times⌠ the big guy heading this way still looks  pretty mad  .   â  you have a very nice back, you know?  â
the inertia caused by their bodies bumping into one another sends manu stumbling forward before he can even make up the face of the woman behind him  &  once he does,  he canât help but frown.  â  ah,  shit.  they  are  sayinâ  that  you  keep  bringing  bad  luck  around  townâ  &  iâm  not  the  one  to  believe  in  rumors  butâŚâ  ironically enough,  he finds himself playing her sidekick  &  complying to her request as he stands still.  â  huh,  thanks,  cariĂąo.  you  might  wanna  jump  on  it  if  that  guy  starts  lunging  towards  us,  thoughâ â
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ambvtchiousâ:
starter: open to everyone! @roswellstartersââ
location: go wild
darling adelaide  ,   less girl - more fragment with each passing day ,   waltzes across the room like a haunting ;   pale and cold  ,   hoarfrost in her eyes  &   velvet snow curdled into ball-joined shoulders ,   heels never quite touching the ground  .    she stretches her tiny fingers with the utmost grace  ,   murmuring through the damp rim of her glass ,   â   i was thinking :   if I fell from up here ,  iâd make a wonderful muse ,  donât you think?  everybody loves a dead girl .   â    casual detachment robs the morbid observation of its power ,   she sounds ,  instead  ,   almost intrigued  -  like a sheltered child dipping their toes into the pool for the first time .   neck long  ,   spine straight ,   sheâs looking  ,   waiting ;  though for what ,  itâs anyoneâs guess .Â
brown eyes reflect both intrigue & concern, one unusual pair of feelings that the rather mysterious aura surrounding the woman is easy to draw out of the man. fingers tap against the bar counter with the same calculated moves that she makes, â ay, querida⌠if you want a song written for you, there are easier ways to get a dedication, â tone is comforting, as alwaysâ as words are met with a tilt of the hat he wore to get a better look at her pale complexion. â nothinâ lasts forever, thatâs trueâ so we gotta enjoy it while it lasts, right? cheers, â his own glass of whiskey is lifted & tilted towards her own in expectancy.
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nicholaskelleyâ:
for: @roswellstartersâ
location: forbidden planet
âDonât even think about it, thatâs mine!â A laugh escaped Nick as he announced this to the person on the opposite site of the comic store, one hand pointing towards them in a playful accusation. He meant nothing by it, but he did really want what was in their hand and he had just been told it was the last one in the store. âWhat do you want to hand it over?â
hands raise in defeat as manu is caught redhandedâ not entirely, in his defense he is doing nothing yet (the day was still young) but holding the very priced possession: a mini figure made to be displayed on a shelf, not to be a dogâs new chew toy like he intended. he looks over the stand to where the young man stood, chuckling at the offer. â you got me, kiddo⌠maybe a duel to the death? a gunslinger fight? â he is joking, of course, because he knows he wouldnât stand a chance against his trained aimâ or so he hoped for the sake of his own ego. â maybe tell me what dâyou want it for & iâll think about it, yeah? â
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eliashaleviâ:
His heart catapulted to the confines of his throat as soon as he felt the elevator quake. âShitââ he gulped, his words in unison with whatever it was the man before him said, his hand meeting the wall to his right. Judging by how quickly he knocked on the doors, Elias wondered if heâd been claustrophobic as well. Or maybe he just had a fear of elevators. Either way, this was precisely the situation Elias had wanted to avoid. Fate was an asshole, apparently.
âUh, yeah,â he laughed nervously, his throat tightening, palms beginning to perspire. Haunted? Not likely. Walls closing in? Absolutely. âSo, uh, I have this fear of tight spaces and um,â he gulped. âYeah this is a bit of a nightmare for me. I mean at this point, if I faint, then I faint, right? Would save me from having a full-blown panic attack I guess. So, yeah, if I faint,â he shook a hand to signal nonchalance. âJust leave me there.â
the hospital was haunted, he knew it was haunted. it had to be. the cabin being brought to a halt made his head stingâ or perhaps the new stitches had been stinging that bad & he had just realised it just nowâ either way, manu presses the ice pack further against the side of his head with a shrug. â oh, âm sorry. this your first time in one of these then? glad to be sharing this memorable moment with you, â he offers him a loopsided grin before knocking on the metal doors once more.
he then chuckles at the otherâs dramatic explanation, reaching a hand over to rest it on the manâs shoulder in the poor attempt to bring at least some sense of comfort. â ey, hombre, youâll be fine. donât threaten me like that. if you faint, iâll have to carry you out & iâm not that fit. â he presses the emergency button, which elicits a buzz from the panel but no answer. â iâm manu, by the way, â giving the situation where they apparently had no other choice but to wait in each otherâs company, he assumes starting a conversation might do the trick of keeping both of their minds busy with something else. literally anything else. â what brought ya to the hospital today, misterâ? you alright? â
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ello, people !! i got super busy & got caught up with finals these last couple days butâ iâm back for good <3 will get to all pending stuff throughout the day & would love to plot some more stuff so donât hesitate to hmu !!
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