08-05-2013, 03:48 PM
Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the walk. Maybe it was finally checking out of a hotel and knowing she could come back to the same place night after night: though if that place in question was here she wasn't sure if that was such a good thing or not.
But she wasn’t so flaming-hot mad now. Leaning back against the steps as she was, elbow cocked on the step behind her, she stretched out completely oblivious to the dirt getting all over the back of her pants ... or more likely, she was aware but simply didn't care. She’d even gone so far as to shove the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows and stare into the sun. There was almost nothing better than lounging like that, except maybe unless it were similarly stretched out on the hood of a car... with a cooler handy.
So she felt better but she couldn't forget the way he said fanatics, like the Atharim weren't important, weren't needed. If he only knew... Maybe he didn't know. Maybe she was assuming he was more than what he was. She squinted thoughtfully, Exactly who are you..?
She was totally going to get back at Cuddles the first chance she got of course. It was more of there being a deficit between the two of them that she intended to set straight rather than an actual grudge. Besides, she’d discovered a nasty bruise capping her shoulder when she stopped at a pit-stop restroom where she could take off her jacket (and reveal the shoulder holsters) in the privacy of a bathroom stall. Her hip fared no better.
A gust of wind blew over the empty PBR can. The aluminum rattled as it toppled and rolled off first off the step then along the ground a couple of paces. She started at it, wondering if and when it was ever going to halt, but Rune did no more about the piece of trash than the dogs sleeping under the porch. She simply didn’t care. At least not enough to get up from her extremely good spot.
Where she had an excellent view of Hood. Pounding away at who knows what along the garage door. She hadn’t offered a sign of greeting. Nor do much else besides the fact that she was obviously watching him. There was a good deal of suspicion to her, but like that empty can, she didn’t seem interested enough to get up and do something about it.
Except open a third can.
Then her Wallet dinged. Immediately, Rune twisted her hips around and whipped the Tech from a pocket on the back of her cargo pants before returning to her previous position. She swiped her hands on her thighs, wet from holding the beading-cold beer, and punched up the message.
It was what she’d been waiting for.
The last Atharim to go after this pack of Roogies had turned up, well... actually he never turned up again. They’d finally tracked down enough leads to put two and two together, people who saw this combined with video tapes of that... well, the guy probably had his heart ripped out, but his Wallet kept on beating. Until the signal was lost three levels underground. The news Rune had been waiting for was the last known location of that signal. From there, she was absolutely confident she’d be able to track the scent of violence back to its source: the pit these Roogies were holed up in.
A swaggering grin touched her lips, and Rune called out to Hood to give him the news. ”Getcha good boots, Cuddles, cause we’re goin’ underground come dark. You’re bound to get those nice pants a yours dirty.” With a brace and twist, Rune slipped the Wallet in her back pocket once more, then laid back, hefted the can and saluted the bastard. Then mumbled, ”dickface.”
But she wasn’t so flaming-hot mad now. Leaning back against the steps as she was, elbow cocked on the step behind her, she stretched out completely oblivious to the dirt getting all over the back of her pants ... or more likely, she was aware but simply didn't care. She’d even gone so far as to shove the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows and stare into the sun. There was almost nothing better than lounging like that, except maybe unless it were similarly stretched out on the hood of a car... with a cooler handy.
So she felt better but she couldn't forget the way he said fanatics, like the Atharim weren't important, weren't needed. If he only knew... Maybe he didn't know. Maybe she was assuming he was more than what he was. She squinted thoughtfully, Exactly who are you..?
She was totally going to get back at Cuddles the first chance she got of course. It was more of there being a deficit between the two of them that she intended to set straight rather than an actual grudge. Besides, she’d discovered a nasty bruise capping her shoulder when she stopped at a pit-stop restroom where she could take off her jacket (and reveal the shoulder holsters) in the privacy of a bathroom stall. Her hip fared no better.
A gust of wind blew over the empty PBR can. The aluminum rattled as it toppled and rolled off first off the step then along the ground a couple of paces. She started at it, wondering if and when it was ever going to halt, but Rune did no more about the piece of trash than the dogs sleeping under the porch. She simply didn’t care. At least not enough to get up from her extremely good spot.
Where she had an excellent view of Hood. Pounding away at who knows what along the garage door. She hadn’t offered a sign of greeting. Nor do much else besides the fact that she was obviously watching him. There was a good deal of suspicion to her, but like that empty can, she didn’t seem interested enough to get up and do something about it.
Except open a third can.
Then her Wallet dinged. Immediately, Rune twisted her hips around and whipped the Tech from a pocket on the back of her cargo pants before returning to her previous position. She swiped her hands on her thighs, wet from holding the beading-cold beer, and punched up the message.
It was what she’d been waiting for.
The last Atharim to go after this pack of Roogies had turned up, well... actually he never turned up again. They’d finally tracked down enough leads to put two and two together, people who saw this combined with video tapes of that... well, the guy probably had his heart ripped out, but his Wallet kept on beating. Until the signal was lost three levels underground. The news Rune had been waiting for was the last known location of that signal. From there, she was absolutely confident she’d be able to track the scent of violence back to its source: the pit these Roogies were holed up in.
A swaggering grin touched her lips, and Rune called out to Hood to give him the news. ”Getcha good boots, Cuddles, cause we’re goin’ underground come dark. You’re bound to get those nice pants a yours dirty.” With a brace and twist, Rune slipped the Wallet in her back pocket once more, then laid back, hefted the can and saluted the bastard. Then mumbled, ”dickface.”