[ Well, this guy isn't much fun. Deely figures it could be worse – of all the people to be trapped in a grody little motel room with, at least he's not losing his mind and banging on the windows or, worse, smiling at her evilly from across the room while she struggles to break free of some sort of restraint. He seems practical, very strait-laced, and clearly he's not the type of person to sit around and wait for a situation to be resolved, unlike Deely, who still hasn't moved from her bed. At least until she spots a flash of dark metal in his hand and, a moment later, registers what it is. ]
What the fuck—
[ Deely's heart jumps into her throat, but before she's even aware of that feeling she's scrambled all the way off her bed to hide between it and the other one, her head peeking up over the mattress, eyes wide. ]
Is that a fucking gun? [ Her voice shifts to an awkward squeak towards the end, which she will absolutely laugh about later, but right now it feels incredibly necessary to transmit the fact that she definitely almost shat herself. ]
no subject
What the fuck—
[ Deely's heart jumps into her throat, but before she's even aware of that feeling she's scrambled all the way off her bed to hide between it and the other one, her head peeking up over the mattress, eyes wide. ]
Is that a fucking gun? [ Her voice shifts to an awkward squeak towards the end, which she will absolutely laugh about later, but right now it feels incredibly necessary to transmit the fact that she definitely almost shat herself. ]