A.Journal

Checks

312 checks

Medium

This is a protracted suicide.

Medium

On the plus side: she's probably so psycho-fucked from this that she won't remember that you abandoned her.

Medium

He waves his hand in a circular motion, tracing the course of lost interest that will one day return.

Medium

True shock in her voice.

Medium

A sacrificial offering. Better than a pigeon.

Medium

Something behind all the meticulous layers of professional politesse. A hunger. Not for food nor sex nor even, really, for beauty...

Medium

Her demeanour softens ever so slightly.

Medium

Taking in Vespar's face, then yours -- younger, not yet burdened by five years of guilt.

Medium

Slouched in the booth, affect too stiff to be believable.

Medium

You really were scrubbing the hell out of those tables. Probably scared a few people off.

Medium

Voice carefully neutral.

Medium

Poor trade. PSEUDOPOD seems to be enjoying himself.

Medium

He looks down at his empty hands, imagining the mugs.

Medium

She pressed all of them.

Medium

He traces the veins on the back of his hand, under the thinning skin.

Medium

His face seems to say: 'but not if this job carries on the way it is'.

Medium

Something's up. This is a distraction.

Medium

As if expecting a miracle to materialise before him.

Medium

He seems exhilarated to have caught something as obvious.

Medium

He can't hold on for much longer.

Medium

The whisper of a smile at the corner of her mouth suggests she even enjoyed it.

Medium

Mouth drawn down in what's threatening to become a permanent frown.

Medium

Her features seem to harden ever-so-slightly.

Medium

This is no mere 'Look', it is an expression of absolute, devastating neutrality. It will take weeks to recover.

Medium

She pronounces 'Carmuna' with a slight distaste, like she's naming a rival.

Medium

Ooff. It's possible you're going to regret engineering her so thoroughly.

Medium

Something's got her in an unusually euphoric mood.

Medium

Her demeanour is sincere. You could open up if you wanted.

Medium

She's evaluating you just as you are her.

Medium

Medium

It sounds like a hit list.

Medium

Hesitation in her voice.

Medium

Hesitation in her voice.

Medium

The heavy silence that follows signals that this particular engine has run out of steam.

Medium

Something in her tone makes you imagine her winking at you.

Medium

Voice level and dry as a salt flat.

Medium

That sounded very un-dolphin-like.

Medium

She doesn't look that young.

Medium

His voice is indifferent, but his eyes drift back towards the building, curious.

Medium

He knew that already.

Medium

Why does he not sound impressed then?

Medium

He's about to blow.

Medium

His fingers go to her hair, reflexive. Blunt nails scratching gently against her scalp.

Medium

And beneath that is the part that desperately wants to hear the whole sordid tale.

Medium

Not the first time he's taken a hit like this. Not even close.

Medium

Same nose. Same dark eyes. Wildly different posture.

Medium

It's hard to see any resemblance to the proud, mustachioed leader behind the coloured hair, the spindly pale legs, and the permanent sneer.

Medium

Other people's distaste is a warm blanket, familiar in its itchiness.

Medium

He's much more comfortable with this line of inquiry.

Medium

The muscles in his ropey calves tense visibly.