Post by Champagne, aka "Charlotte" on May 27, 2008 13:08:49 GMT -7
I had been staying silent for longer than what was necessary, but I didn't entirely feel the urge to speak when he suggested we'd be best going to the hospital. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that much. Then, I had a strange and unfamiliar notion, which made me feel that I'd be getting a lot of those before my mind was on the right track again. It was only a few seconds later when a couple of people approached us in the alley, not appearing to be too friendly. I jumped, startled, eyes huge with fear and anxiety. They were bound to be robbers, and the man's first few words confirmed my guess.
I looked at Angel, wondering if he would give me some sort of order or hint as to what to do. Sure enough, he suggested I take my leave. I was about to, up until I heard the man claim he had an eye for me. Son of a bitch. I shuddered in fear, only to have that cowering feeling replaced by a confident anger. I don't know what had triggered it; maybe it was the faintest scent of sexual harassment that did it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to take another statement like that without someone's nose being punched...
They were gone before I could make a move, however, and I anxiously turned to Angel. Angelus? Why did that term sound intimidating? It was obviously directed to him, considering Angel and Angelus were somewhat familiar. He was obviously famous around here. Whether or not it was a good thing was a different story, however. I figured it was best not to ask questions, though. He seemed to be confused about it all, too. I carefully eyed the weapons on the floor - the two spiked-balls that were settled on the street. They were covered in blood, and that was enough to keep me away from it. Just the sight of it made me want to hurl...
"Yeah, let's go," I agreed, hurrying over to Angel. I didn't feel too comfortable being in this alley for a moment longer, afraid that more big-baddies would pop out of nowhere with deformed faces. Ugh. Suddenly, something struck me - an odd feeling that I probably should have sensed right off the back. If those fuckers ran off in fear of the Irishman, should I be doing the same thing? What was it about him that had them scurrying off in such a cowardly manner? Did I have any reason to be afraid of harm?
Trying not to let the fretting get too close to me, I shoved all my worries into an unbreakable glass container and tossed it aside into the darkness. My top priority was finding a hospital that could help both of us. Honestly, what harm could he do? He seemed far too nice to even really land a violent fingernail on me.
I looked at Angel, wondering if he would give me some sort of order or hint as to what to do. Sure enough, he suggested I take my leave. I was about to, up until I heard the man claim he had an eye for me. Son of a bitch. I shuddered in fear, only to have that cowering feeling replaced by a confident anger. I don't know what had triggered it; maybe it was the faintest scent of sexual harassment that did it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to take another statement like that without someone's nose being punched...
They were gone before I could make a move, however, and I anxiously turned to Angel. Angelus? Why did that term sound intimidating? It was obviously directed to him, considering Angel and Angelus were somewhat familiar. He was obviously famous around here. Whether or not it was a good thing was a different story, however. I figured it was best not to ask questions, though. He seemed to be confused about it all, too. I carefully eyed the weapons on the floor - the two spiked-balls that were settled on the street. They were covered in blood, and that was enough to keep me away from it. Just the sight of it made me want to hurl...
"Yeah, let's go," I agreed, hurrying over to Angel. I didn't feel too comfortable being in this alley for a moment longer, afraid that more big-baddies would pop out of nowhere with deformed faces. Ugh. Suddenly, something struck me - an odd feeling that I probably should have sensed right off the back. If those fuckers ran off in fear of the Irishman, should I be doing the same thing? What was it about him that had them scurrying off in such a cowardly manner? Did I have any reason to be afraid of harm?
Trying not to let the fretting get too close to me, I shoved all my worries into an unbreakable glass container and tossed it aside into the darkness. My top priority was finding a hospital that could help both of us. Honestly, what harm could he do? He seemed far too nice to even really land a violent fingernail on me.
