𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠWESLEY GIBSON. ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠTHE KILLER. ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ

Fuck you.

@KleptoKitty There's an argument to be had there, but it won't be an argument he'll start. He missed her too. His kitty.

@CxrvingBullets So does almost everything and anything. She missed him.

Chardonnay and a croissant.

@KleptoKitty Elegant. Expensive. Unnecessarily so, but it looks sexy on her.

@CxrvingBullets Elegant, or efficient?

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍FRANK MCKNIGHT / ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍KAMEN RIDER OOO. ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍BRADLEY FULTON. ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍THE MONSTER OF XEBEC. ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ AKA: MOX. ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍

@labmademutt She looks pretty perfect to him. That's just her humanity talking; something he's long forsaken. "Me too." And with that, Wesley leans back on his seat, arms folded. He doesn't care about the danger. "Will somebody come and force me to go if I stay?"

@CxrvingBullets That’s not her, even if that’s how they made. Tried to make her, anyways. There was always something wrong with her. A flaw they couldn’t make disappear. She frowns. Six nods just a little.

24-hour diner. Pale hands fidgeting with the tail end of her braided hair. Trying to look like one of you, trying to blend.

@labmademutt That's where they differ, because he doesn't mind the blood. Doesn't mind putting down whatever sleazy son of a bitch that dares come to him, half-cocked, and threaten his life. Gibson observes the message. His immediate response is to smile. "Are you dangerous?"

@CxrvingBullets Even if he feels that way, she wouldn’t want it to be another death on her hands. She has enough of those already. They keep her up at night. She shifts in her seat, chewing the inside of her cheek. She starts typing again. You should go.

@labmademutt He's okay with dying. It's not a life worth living, anyways. He'll put up a fight, though. Wesley reads the single word. Brows furrow, then bottom lip tugs upwards. 'Oh well', his expression reads. "Interesting name," he quips. "I'm Wesley."

@CxrvingBullets He’ll die. She’s already accepted an evening of punishment for even interacting with him now. She looks down at his phone. Eyes watch the blinking cursor. Six glances at him and then back at his phone before hesitantly reaching out to type. Six.

@labmademutt And that's precisely why he's not talking to anyone else. Danger calls to him like the prostitute does the fat, cheating slob. Masochistic, in a way. "Writing it is." Pulling out his phone, opening one of the five apps, the notepad app. Offers it to her. "What's your name?"

@CxrvingBullets If he wants things to go well, he’d be better off talking to anyone else. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into with her. She lifts a hand making a gesture to say ‘sort of’. She’s not been taught, but she’s learned a little here and there.

@labmademutt It never goes well for him. He's not hoping for things to be different this time around; maybe he's just looking for the entertainment that comes with a botched get-together. "Sorry to hear." He thinks, considers options. "Do you sign?" Sign language, he means.

@CxrvingBullets Maybe. That doesn’t usually go well for her. She blinks at his question. She doesn’t really like the way he asked it, but she can’t place why. The tone, maybe. She nods.

@labmademutt He doesn't know her either. This whole thing is to know each other. Sort of. Wesley takes but a moment of silent analysis before asking a question, not one complex enough that requires anything beyond a gesture to respond to. "You a mute?"

@CxrvingBullets Nothing abnormal about it, if they know each other. She doesn’t know him. She’ll take the stranger’s word for the food, pointing to the same thing on the menu when the waitress comes. Nodding.

@labmademutt He's got no intention of blowing her cover. Then again, he's got no idea she's got a cover at all, plus, what's more normal than two people sharing a meal? "Trust me." Waitress soon coming to take their orders, Wesley asks for the aforementioned item. The pancakes are good.

@CxrvingBullets She bristles slightly seeing him stand in her peripheral. She reminds herself that she’s trying to blend in. He sits across from her and she looks up at him again. Lips purse slightly at the suggestion, and she reads the description of said pancakes. Could be good…

@labmademutt Rejection is met with action from his part and so, instead, it's Wesley who moves. Leaving his empty booth to join hers, sitting on the opposite side. "You should try the pancakes." Friendly enough introduction, he supposes.

@CxrvingBullets Her eyebrows push together at his offered seat, like she doesn’t understand the concept. Why would she move? This table provides a better tactical position. She shakes her head and looks back at her menu. Almost all this stuff she’s barely even heard of.

@labmademutt Greens locked into blues, and Wesley stares deep into hers. This isn't flirting— but he's certainly interested. A smile is shot her way. Confident or foolish, but it matters very little. Then signaling at the free seat in front of him, in case she wants to join him.

@CxrvingBullets Her hair has always been this color. She glances his way now. Green eyes locking onto his with undivided interest. She gets that a lot. Part of looking perfect, she supposes.

@labmademutt Observing, trying to decide if the color of her hair is natural or dyed. Looks real enough. Not the only thought that runs through his mind, however. He's thankful to "them", whoever they may be. She's a sight for sore eyes.

@CxrvingBullets Her fingers keep at her red hair, though she can feel him looking at her. She makes no move to acknowledge him. Blending. She focuses on the menu before her. Hm. They made her that way on purpose.

Blood all over his clothes. Tch.

A beatdown isn't enough, I need to kill them.