- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
Patrick shrugged. The Walker lay more or less exactly where he'd dropped, slumped over on his right side in reaction to the blows he'd been taking to his face. It'd been about seven minutes since the last punch: he ought to wake again soon. Leaning back into his chair, the Irishman reached for the remote to his television. He stopped; Sapphire might have fallen silent, probably focusing on not aggravating her injury. But she could still talk; she'd shown that quite clearly. And he was damn curious about her.
"So," Paddy broke the silence with a raspy cough, knocking the ash from his cigarette into the bowl with a flick. A few flakes missed the impromptu ashtray entirely, landing instead on the side table to join hundreds of other such flakes. "Yer a bleeding vigilante, huh? That's...well, ya weren't like that in school, yeah? They say people change after high school, but shyte. Didn't know they changed that much."
"So," Paddy broke the silence with a raspy cough, knocking the ash from his cigarette into the bowl with a flick. A few flakes missed the impromptu ashtray entirely, landing instead on the side table to join hundreds of other such flakes. "Yer a bleeding vigilante, huh? That's...well, ya weren't like that in school, yeah? They say people change after high school, but shyte. Didn't know they changed that much."