Pool_1

>> Getting Better <<

Shadows in the stark lighting accentuated railroad track stitching coarsely spanning the left upper aspect of his purple bloated face, where a swollen orbit consumed a battered eye. Still bending over his toil, he slowly forced a right gaze toward his preceptor, hoping to catch approval. "That was better, huh?" Spittle leaked through the damaged lip. Dulled in strangled pale skin, a sprawl of long graceful legs were lifeless at his feet. Awkward reversals of stilled posture only accentuated her supple beauty. Better? Than what? Mick didn't want to encourage this."Pfshuh .. you know I drugged her." "Look, Mick!" Her gracile lifeless arm, lifted, was let drop,"She's dead! What more do I..." But that word tentacle was cleaved to a stub by Mick's razor glare. Deadly radiating lines furrowing a tensioned face said, Shut up. You ass hole. Just shut up. Mick was a steel spring trap, always set precariously, ready to snap - and this new guy was tap dancing on his trip. Not the first one to do that, though. One for mistakes and another for talking too much, Mick had already strangled two prior partners. Mick wasn't fickle. Fact is, he didn't get to pick them. Not long in people skills, he didn't feel inclined to suffer them either. You could pack a corpse with the ice that was hanging in the the air. This lacerated lavender faced moron with a dangling wire still wrapped on one hand, took to pulling at the seat of his pants looking for a distraction, anything. Links on his watch band, "Yeah, but I got the hang of this, right?" "I.. I, don't think I would quite put it..."