Thread: [â] eyes as candles - {dream+nymph}

Sometimes a given few of Gerrit's men questioned his authority. He was a suave, articulate smooth talker. A man as slender and as roguishly handsome as himself seemed to thrive on the brawn of others. But, his men were hired guns, aside from the three perched in the back seat, Gill and Richard. Gill was a slender man like his boss but much more temperamental and a little slow in the head. Richard, on the other hand, was a brilliant Irish man with a rich accent and a very witty mode of thinking. The other young man was virtually nameless and a suspiciously quiet young man from the Bronx. All of them had their stories, though none were wiling to share them. With Johnta now passed out positioned against his body, he laced his arm around her shoulder, playfully toying with her tamed black hair. While Richard and Jermaine was perfectly fine with their boss' rude comments, Gil was not. In fact, he truly never was. He didn't like being treated like an animal he wanted to be treated like an equal. Ugh ... shut up and just drive, he murmured darkly, gritting his teeth while redirecting his gaze towards the window pane where the blurry city lights rushed by. It was like a jumble of red and blue a mesh of frothy hues. He watched with disinterest, awaiting their to arrive to their destination. So, Gerrit, if you don't mind me askin', Richard whispered defensively, his Irish accent sweet and rustic, What's your plan with the lass here? As pretty as she is ... people are going to find out that she's missing and the police are going to be searching for her, probably by tomorrow afternoon. We'll leave her in your hands as you've instructed and try to throw off the authorities but I have to admit ... this is a tricky job. ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? The behemoth mean looked tired beyond compare. His chocolate brown eyes were dark and fatigued his collar was popped from the removal of his tie, as well as of his jacket. He wasn't thrilled to have been babysitting this detective's daughter after the evening's tumultuous brawl. He was tired, grumpy, irritated and above all, hungry. Dante hadn't had a decent meal in days. He had been feasting on fast food for the past week which had made him extremely irritable and sluggish. He couldn't wait to get back to eating is big, hardy meals of typical steak, cheese and potatoes. The now slovenly looking man had taken a perch upon a massive leather, black Lazy Boi chair near one of the grand sunset windows in the lounging portion of the suite. His dress top was lazily unbuttoned and he had a frothy, cold bear clutched tightly in his bear paws. Only a matter of time before he learns his daughter is missing. I'd love to see his face. He took a swig of his brew and chuckled lowly, quite pleased with the job he did on fixing his toy's wounds. He had removed the bullet with a pair of tweezers and cauterized it using knife he placed over the burner and some polysporin that was lying around in the hotel room's emergency medical kit. He wrapped it gingerly with guass and bandages and was even kind enough to leave a bottle of painkillers and a glass of ice water by the nightstand if she needed the narcotics. I need a smoke. With his bottle in tow he rolled over to the table in the lounging room. Near the couch was a small satchel which wreaked of weed, though he masked the scent with an opened cologne bottle. He pulled out one of his previously rolled cigarettes and placed it to his lips, skillfully lighting it with one of his treasured lighters. The pungent stench wafted through the lounge, but eased Dante's mind. Fuck that's good . listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu