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Post by Preacher on Aug 6, 2007 17:27:34 GMT -1
“Oh a big, fat, juicy tip,”It took all in his power not to say anything sexual after that. But his eyes did widen and an unsure smirk did grace his lips as he silently mulled over what he would say in a perfect world. As the waitress arrived, attention was disturbed as his blues moved to the new arrival, hoping she hadn’t heard him before. Apparently not as she continued on with her job with no malice evident on her features. He leaned back in his seat as she scooped up his plate, hoping to put his delicate body at a distant to the klutz for fear of getting another injury. Their forks she had picked up were looking mighty dangerous dangling points downwards over his hand which he hastily pulled back. Soon enough however, the waitress left the table and Luke waited for the sound of clattering plates. However it didn’t come. Finally, attention was back on his company, who was just putting the check back on the table and sliding it over to him. Giving a faint smile with eyes focused entirely on the checkbook, digits pulled it to him as he checked the price. Counting her notes up with his eyes, he frowned and threw in an upward glance at her. She had paid for all her meal, which was considerably more expensive than his, “I thought were going halfers?” he asked, not waiting for a reply as he scooped up a few of her notes and tossed them lightly over to her side of the table so that he could flick through his own notes and put forward the same price as she for the meals, “I do insist.” He only had a couple of bills leftover but he really didn’t mind. He’d be nicking another wallet soon anyway. Seeing her get prepared to leave, Luke slowly got to his feet, noticing he felt a lot better than he did when he sat down. The hangover was practically over now. Eyes locked onto his cup of tea, hand moving down to pick it up and finish it off with a long swig before placing it roughly back down on wood. “So you’ll be driving back to your place?”“If you trust an Englishman to drive on the right side of the road, then yeah.” He replied, grinning briefly. The fact that she’d now be the one hands-free and closest to the glove compartment and the weapons was what ceased his smile. He doubted she’d decide to double cross him now considering he agreed to help her on her hunt. But she seemed trustworthy; a factor commonly lost on hunters. Preacher’s eyes suddenly lit up and widened as though he had forgotten something. Quickly, eyes darted down to the salt and pepper shakers he’d been using previously as a distraction from his new acquaintance. Hand quickly swiped the salt shaker up and a split second later, it had been pocketed. His face and posture suggesting nothing had just happened. Once she was on her feet, his own started taking him to the exit.
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Post by Raquel Knight on Aug 16, 2007 6:04:55 GMT -1
Rocky’s lips parted as she watched Luke remove her bills from the checkbook and put it on the table to return it to her. Giving an annoyed sigh, a smirk followed as she leaned over to pluck up the extra dollars and slid them back into her denim pocket. As she moved out of the booth, fingers then dug into her other pocket to pull the truck’s keys. Holding them by the key ring as she offered Luke to drive back, until he made his comment. “If you trust an Englishman to drive on the right side of the road, then yeah.” He answered and quickly, keys fell back into Rocky’s palm. Pausing when walking towards the door, a thought popped into her head, she looked over her shoulder to give him another friendly smile. “I think I better drive,” she answered prior to walking back to the entrance/exit door. Passing their waitress who was delivering another meal and the hostess that sat them, she pushed open the heavy glass door, holding it open for Luke to exit as well. Construction boots traveled back towards the parked pick up truck and to the driver’s side. Opening the dented door that gave its audible squeak when opened, Rocky slid over the brown leather seat and slammed the door closed next to her. Sighing in a small pout, she allowed Luke to enter the car and looked up at her guest again. “Okay, you’re going to have to guide me through this city to your place,” Leaning over the steering wheel, she pushed the key into the ignition to start the car and sat back before continued. “Too much hunting to remember streets from every town.” She reasoned as she waited.
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Post by Preacher on Aug 19, 2007 0:43:09 GMT -1
Following her out, he treaded the dirt into his worn mucky soles. There were still stains of sick on his battered shoes. Luke maneuvered past a badly parked car beside them and squeezed through the tiny gap it had left him, opening the door a crack and squeezing through barely, finding himself collapse roughly onto the passenger seat once more. The same seat he’d threatened the very same girl who was sitting beside him. Eye’s lingered momentarily on the glove compartment. “Okay, you’re going to have to guide me through this city to your place,”So it was time. Time to show her his living. Living wasn’t even an adequate term for what he was doing; existing. Eyes darted over to hers and gave a reassuring smile. It would be over soon; they’d be in and out. Get his things; his clothes, bow, and they’d be away before the indigenous tribes got their claws into this attractive girl. He was sure she could fight; she was a hunter, and that was all the explanation that would be needed. Hunters weren’t long for this world if they didn’t know how to throw a good punch. “Too much hunting to remember streets from every town.”“Right…” Preacher murmured as eyes broke contact, “…because we can all guess I’ve not been doing too much hunting lately.” His tone was cynical although he knew it was the truth and she hadn’t implied anything. He hadn’t had a hunt for weeks, if not months; he was slacking. And his beer belly was coming along nicely to his detestation. At least this was his silver lining; a girl coming along and tempting him back into the world of the boogeyman. Or his undoing. “Right, well. Start off we…” Luke surveyed his surrounding, getting his inner map aligned as his limp hand pointing right before twisting to his left. “We head left.” He did have an almost photographic memory so usually when giving directions, they were spot on, but it all depended on the amount of alcohol in his blood. Half of the time after being out getting shitfaced, he’d just stumble his way into the nearest gutter to spend his night. After all, what’s the difference between them?
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