- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- Weekends, I tend to have buckets of time unless I'm working or traveling (I'll let you know), then I'm scarce af. During the week, I work pretty standard 9-5, then go to class or the gym, so....8-11 PM Pacific?
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Douche
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- I'm open to more than I'm closed to. If it doesn't fall under gratuitous or inorganic (forced) romance, pitch me an idea, and we'll work it out.
Mal's shy and grateful glance at Sean was cut short, interrupted and replaced by a very brief, very sincere show of anger as she felt a meaty hand close around her wrist. She had been more or less expecting it this time. Foka did not seem the type to wait around for a strange woman he didn't trust anyway to make her move. It made his touching her no more welcome, and for just second, her gaze flicked to him, her expression similar to that of a rabid animal pushed into a corner.
She quickly reigned in her temper, though, and her expression changed to concern, disgust, and mild surprise.
"Alright, I'm coming," she snapped, yanking her hand away from the larger man as her feet struck the floor. She could feel the muscle and determination in that grip. Useful, if not interesting. If he tried that shit again, she'd have to think of some indirect way of kicking his ass.
She spared only a cursory glance at the guards who had come. It was too early to get anything from them, if she was going to get anything at all. Better to focus her time on splitting up Sean and --
Foka leaned close and she tensed for just an instant. He spoke only a few words, his breath on her neck pushing out goosebumps all the way down her arms. Her expression didn't change, nor did her posture, but she'd heard nonetheless.
She reached down and snatched up a dingy grey-green jumpsuit. It was too long for her, so she pulled it up to her waist and tied the sleeves like a chunky, awkward belt. The white tank top they'd given her yesterday was clean enough, if too thin to lend much warmth, but she figured if she got any colder, she could pull up the sleeves of the jumpsuit.
Til then, she swept her hair back into a matted ponytail, rinsed her mouth at the sink -- she was supposed to get a toothbrush, hair brush and shampoo in the afternoon -- and ducked out of the cell ahead of Sean and Foka both. She wasn't very hungry...but she was intrigued by what her strange cellmate had said.
She quickly reigned in her temper, though, and her expression changed to concern, disgust, and mild surprise.
"Alright, I'm coming," she snapped, yanking her hand away from the larger man as her feet struck the floor. She could feel the muscle and determination in that grip. Useful, if not interesting. If he tried that shit again, she'd have to think of some indirect way of kicking his ass.
She spared only a cursory glance at the guards who had come. It was too early to get anything from them, if she was going to get anything at all. Better to focus her time on splitting up Sean and --
Foka leaned close and she tensed for just an instant. He spoke only a few words, his breath on her neck pushing out goosebumps all the way down her arms. Her expression didn't change, nor did her posture, but she'd heard nonetheless.
She reached down and snatched up a dingy grey-green jumpsuit. It was too long for her, so she pulled it up to her waist and tied the sleeves like a chunky, awkward belt. The white tank top they'd given her yesterday was clean enough, if too thin to lend much warmth, but she figured if she got any colder, she could pull up the sleeves of the jumpsuit.
Til then, she swept her hair back into a matted ponytail, rinsed her mouth at the sink -- she was supposed to get a toothbrush, hair brush and shampoo in the afternoon -- and ducked out of the cell ahead of Sean and Foka both. She wasn't very hungry...but she was intrigued by what her strange cellmate had said.