#Batman 2022 fic

[punchdrunkdoc]

Hmmm...

Is Obama a secret fan of a certain Batman fanfic?

(This is where the name for Just Breathe came from - I’m a massive PJ fan!)

https://pj.lnk.to/JustBreatheStreamTP

[ellesthots]

“twin bed”

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: bruce wayne visits your family home, but you struggle to find time alone together.

pairing: (battinson!)bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, oral sex, fingering, teasing, risky

words: 2.8k

Dinner had been good—great, even. The drinks were never late, the food delicious and warm. The only complication in the whole affair regarded lodging; you were staying at your parent’s house, which they’d insisted upon. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had met your parents, but it was the first trip dedicated to spending time together as a group. The brief initial meetings had made quite the impression, so much so they already considered him a part of the family. 

Meaning? Polite luxuries were no longer afforded, and they had him camping out on an air mattress in your childhood bedroom beside your tiny twin bed. 

Bruce didn’t mind. He was so used to sleeping on a hard cot in the basement of Wayne Tower that the air mattress was a sort of opulence. Most importantly, he thoroughly enjoyed time with your family. Seeing you in your element, getting to know the people who had helped mold you into the person he loved, was blissful. He would’ve slept on cement without complaint.

The first night, two days ago, you’d been so petrified of your parents overhearing that you barely even let him kiss you, despite how badly you craved his touch. He’d been working relentlessly the past month, various charity appearances and meetings about more charity appearances taking up his days, and high-intensity patrols taking up his nights. This week was supposed to be a vacation, but you couldn’t get a true moment alone. Stolen kisses and gripped thighs under tables weren’t enough to satiate your desire for closeness.

Last night you’d prayed for your parents to tuck in early, as they usually did, but they’d kept the both of you up until three in the morning with a deceptively intense game of Monopoly. It had tuckered the both of you out enough to pass out immediately. You’d slept until mid-afternoon, waking to a text from your mother about spending the evening at her friend’s birthday party—and that your sister would visit in their place. 

She hadn’t yet met Bruce, and was entirely enamored. Her eyes glittered every time he acknowledged her. When he excused himself to use the restroom, she leaned in with excited, jealous whispers. The next few hours were a bore.

Bruce caught onto your need for escape like you’d spoken it aloud. He pretended to surprise you with dinner reservations, and hastily made them in the car ride over. Your head throbbed with so much fawning conversation, always surrounded by prying eyes and ears. And you had another four days of this, with a family party pinned at the end of it. 

By some stroke of luck, your sister had abandoned the house by the time dinner plans were completed. Opening the door to an empty, quiet home was a godsend, and you slipped off your jacket and slunk to the bedroom to change. Bruce followed close behind. You fell onto the bed and slipped off your heels, rubbing the side of your foot where they had pinched. Your vision trailed along his legs when he tossed off his dress pants and pulled on a pair of gray sweats. His hips pulled forward as he shrugged off his blazer and yanked on a tee, creating a yummy print against the light fabric. You felt your body flush, and checked the time. It would be at least a few minutes until they got back…

You shimmied out of your underwear and sat on your knees, staring at him hungrily. Maybe it was the fact the room was dark aside from dim, faded fairy lights you’d put up years ago, casting beautiful mountains and valleys across his briefly exposed chest. Or maybe that it had been weeks, and your body felt tight with need, hoarding every second of that time like a grudge. You couldn’t decide what you wanted first—to touch him or him to touch you. For his fingers, or his lips, or…

He walked to the side of your bed, smoothing your hair behind your ear with a calloused hand. His movements were innocent and slow, and you knew he was acting oblivious. There was no universe where he immediately caught onto your boredom but couldn’t tell how intensely you ached to be taken care of now. You vibrated with it, full to the brim, desire so bloomed it blurred your vision. 

Was he waiting for you to beg for it? Would he really make you beg? Or was he playing safe, assuming your parents would be back any second? The thought only made you want to rush, not stall. Only increased the desperate pull for him to be on top of you, or you on top of him or, fuck, anything. 

You started pulling down his pants but Bruce shook his head; he let the rejection hang for a moment, watching the quiet flicker of your eyes across his face, gauging your reaction as he sunk down to his knees. The only sound was the air mattress sliding across the floor with a satisfying shick, and a creak of coils within your mattress as he moved a warm hand to your thigh and spread your legs.

He moved his hands underneath you and hooked around your legs, gently scooting your hips to the bed’s edge. The quilt you laid on cushioned your elbows as you sat up to watch him with wide eyes. Vibrant anticipation made your mouth water, peppering goosebumps up your arms and down your legs. The dim lighting framed his wide shoulders in half-shadow and accentuated the valleys his fingers created in the flesh of your thighs.

His eyes flicked up to yours and all thought vaporized as he brought his mouth to your clit. You held a breath. His eye contact was immobilizing, bringing heat to your cheeks and closing your throat. You only realized his hands had wandered when you felt a squeeze around the fleshy part of your waist. Your attention had been bought and fate sealed when his tongue pressed between the folds of your pussy, sending a soft rumble of pleasure up your core. 

You inhaled sharply as a hand traced down the side of your body, spurring a shiver at the base of your spine. The bedframe creaked as his weight adjusted against it, a finger teasing your entrance. He watched as your breathing shallowed and your subtle, quick nod shook the fragile twin bed. 

He wanted to watch your reaction when… your lashes fluttered as he slid his finger in, simultaneously pressing his mouth firmer against you. God, you tasted so fucking sweet. He suppressed a moan so he could better hear yours when he added a second finger, and oh, his body was unprepared for the sound. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and he let out an involuntary moan as your slick drenched his chin. He pumped his fingers deeper, harder, and suddenly your hands were in his hair.

His eyes dipped down only to pull back and visualize your arousal; your fingers slacked in his hair, a longing whimper slipping off your tongue at the pause. You were puffy, swollen, and the most delicious shade of pink. He drew a long, deep breath, half teasing, half preparatory. He brought his wet, pursed lips a centimeter away; your body tensed in anticipation, the room’s air turned static. 

Tight puffs of warm air caressed your clit, and your elbows slipped as your head fell back; your low groan was his cue to close the distance and lap at you, his fingers motionless inside. He kept a deliberate tempo, every few seconds leaning a little closer, moving his tongue a bit faster. He was waiting for it to be too much, patient for your hands to rip at his hair until it stung. Mmms and ahhs accompanied the thick, wet noises between your thighs, and he nearly lost himself in them. 

Usually you folded before this point, but you were making him work for it tonight—challenge accepted. He broke the suction and slowly withdrew his fingers, reaching for your spare hand. “Look at me,” and you immediately obeyed without protest, not even a sarcastic tease. His heart skipped. Ooh, you needed him. Even in the low light he saw how thrown you were by the width of your pupils and the slack in your jaw. His cock twitched under his sweats, his thoughts loosening. 

“Please,” you pleaded, shifting your hips closer. Bruce grinned when you grabbed the back of his head. He felt the insistence within your palm and obliged, moving his mouth back down. A part of him felt bad—you were never this needy. But the beauty in the trembling arch of your back and the heat emanating off every inch of your skin was so intoxicating he couldn’t resist keeping you here. He dragged his tongue lower, circling your entrance until your grip tightened, but not enough. Not yet. 

The warm, unhurried slip of his tongue against your clit had your moans echo off the walls. His pace was achingly slow, but you couldn’t complain when his mouth knew your body this well. His easy tempo continued for minutes, decreasing each time he felt your walls clench around his fingers. Tension built in your stomach and your back arched higher off the mattress. The sweeping motions of his tongue were languid, but his flicks were hard and calculated. You grabbed another fistful of his hair and yanked as his swipes turned to sucking, and he groaned against it. 

You shrieked as his fingers entered you once more, the come here motion hitting that dull, heady spot over, and over, and… “Fuck,” you cursed, face tense as he worked you to the edge. He was hitting that spot relentlessly, and the noises of your soaked cunt were downright pornographic. 

He felt your pussy clench hard around his fingers, and his mouth separated from you with a pop. “Go, baby.” He coached you as he curled his fingers higher. The room was hazy, his senses attuned only to your face and his fingers. His gravelly voice was strained by his own mounting desire. “Cum for me.”

You bit your lip and fought it; he couldn’t overwhelm you this easily, work you as he pleased. Even though he was right and you were on the edge of completion, almost dangling off the cliff, you wouldn’t let him have it so easily. He didn’t let you have it so easily. Remembering the torturous speed of the past ten minutes… and how fucking perfectly he was nailing you right now. 

Your breathing slowed intentionally when he moved up to kiss you. A whimper slipped from your lips as you held your orgasm at arm’s length, and Bruce’s brow cocked when he realized what you were attempting. “C’mon,” he purred, nudging your jaw out of the way to press a wet kiss to the nape of your neck. Your pulse hammered beneath his lips, betraying you, his hot breath matching the pace of his fingers as they fucked you. 

“Not so easily.” You managed a breathless sentence, the end frayed with a whine as he pulled his fingers out to circle the pearl of your clit. Your teeth made an indent in your lower lip, failing to keep secret how you were putty in his hands. 

His blue eyes bore into yours, framed by his straight, dark hair. His cologne mocked you this close, weakening your resolve. Your body quivered, barely able to keep moans from spilling out in an endless chorus, singing his praises. He grinned, speeding up his pointer and middle fingers. “Let it out, baby.” he kissed along your collarbone, dragging his lips down to your nipple. A moan hummed from his chest as his tongue swirled it, making you yelp. “I can tell you need it.” 

His coaxing wouldn’t undo you, his coaxing wouldn’t… you gasped as his fingers pushed inside again. You shook your head, face heating. He paused and thank god he had, because you needed a split second to contain yourself. “Want me to stop?”

“No.” You pushed your hips down on his fingers and grinded on them, moans and whines escaping full force. The bed creaked under the impact, a laugh mingling with a moan as you noticed his eyes flash, then darken. His jaw dropped open, beginning to pant. It was water. You were water. 

The room spun. He kissed his way down your torso until he could finally taste you again. Impossibly wet, impossible to keep up with the gyration of your hips and the roll of your waist. His tone tempted the Bat when it got this ragged. “Fuck,” he swallowed hard, as if it were the last breath he’d ever take. And maybe it would be, the way you weren’t leaving him room to breathe. 

He wanted to egg you on. Fuck yourself on my fingers, he’d gasp, but he was worried you’d stop. Somewhere the script had flipped and you were teasing him now, commanding control. You always melted him like this. “Take what you need.” 

The words unraveled you. Your body slammed the length of his fingers, jamming the headboard into the wall without mercy. “Another,” you groaned, feeling instantly fuller. His knuckles, the angle of his fingers, and the pinprick pain of hickeys he stained along your skin made you feral. “Please,” you mewled, threading shaking fingers through his sweaty hair. He’d caught your staggered rhythm; you closed your eyes and submitted to the pleasure of each thrust, as sensitive as you’d ever been. 

Bruce felt like you were riding him; he swore he felt each slip of his fingers on his throbbing dick, his hips twitching in unison with his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Broken curses fell from your lips and you tightened around his fingers. His cheeks burned scarlet. He didn’t know if he was still breathing. Everything in the world left him. 

You didn’t have to say anything; he felt it in the tremble of your legs, saw it etched in the crease between your eyebrows. “That’s it,” he coached you through it, feeling you clench so tight his breathing hitched. “Perfect baby, cum for me.”

Your hands landed on his shoulders, nails digging into sweaty, flaming skin as your climax shot through you. Your hips bounced erratically, Bruce’s fingers still fucked you through it, your pussy a useless, trembling, spasming mess. The white-hot release flooded your brain with TV static, a rush which cascaded through every cell in your body. Your mouth opened wider to free a guttural moan when you suddenly felt empty, clenching around nothing, and his hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling you. 

“They’re back,” he whispered, gulping for breath. You writhed, simultaneously wrestling against the forced silence and grateful he’d heard, body contracting and jumping beneath him. “Shh…” he soothed, his dominating gaze quickly placating your throbbing frame. You blinked down the residual high when you heard the front door shut, footsteps entering the hall. 

“Back from the party! Brought you guys some cake.” 

Hearing your parent’s voice so soon after was disorienting; Bruce paused, waiting a second longer to drop his hand. You stared at each other a moment, completely still, until a smile crept on his face and you laughed. 

“I’ll have to wait a minute.” Bruce sat up, adjusting his sweats with a heavy sigh. Your eyes traveled the dark room, catching your breath like you’d just run a mile. His fingers never felt that good before, his tongue never worked such brutal magic. He interrupted your reverie. 

“You okay?” He was breathless too, his shirt limp and stretched haphazardly. He looked dazed, and blushed when you didn’t immediately answer. “Sorry for teasing. You just…” he turned tomato red. 

“Just what?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he confessed, focusing on your smile as you leaned toward him. Your hand rested on his knee; his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Come try it, you two.” 

You felt like a teenager again. “I have an idea.” Your fingers trailed toward his waistband. “You better simmer down, or we’ll get in trouble. Cake tasting’s important, you know.” 

“Evidently…” he tried to measure your parent’s wrath against the ache in his boxers, half shocked he was even considering being so reckless. How soundproof was this room?

“More than okay.” You finally answered, tugging at his drawstring until the knot untied. He drew a quick breath, but didn’t pull away.

“I won’t be able to be quiet,” he admitted, flustered.

The walls narrowed to the space between your lips and his. You knew your parents would soon unwind in the living room across the house, unable to hear a peep—but Bruce didn’t. “Is that a challenge?”

a/n: apparently i have writer’s block but not for bruce wayne smut, so here you go <3 i think it’s cute for Bruce to have the experience of parents interrupting something, since he likely didn’t have that experience growing up !! at least battinson probably didn’t, lmao. also he’s a total munch. a real eater. let me know what you think !!

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[purehypnotic]

✮𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕✮

𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂��𝒅 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔.

𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬, 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

"𝐘/𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨" 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫.

"𝐖𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝.

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

"𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬.

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 "𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡", 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲.

"𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐘/𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨," 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. "𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐇𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ��𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐮��𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.

𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨. 𝐓𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝.

𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐓𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭-𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐎𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

*𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓*

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥," 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐠.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲𝐲," 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, "𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧.

*𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒑*

"𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭?" 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧.

"𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞,

" 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝" 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

"𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧, 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. ��𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐰𝐬" 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭. 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 "𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞" 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.

"𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬," 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧. "𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

"𝐍𝐚𝐡, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟.

"𝐎𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬" 𝐇𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐩. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭-𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

"𝐎𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝" 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ��𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

"𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐦 𝐈, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫? 𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝/𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

"𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮," 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬.

"𝐎𝐤… 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭.

"𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬" 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. "𝐘'𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

"𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞. "𝐒𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐝.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

"𝐋𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰��𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐘/𝐧," 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫?

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫.

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝.

"𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞.

"𝐎𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐝," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ��𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐛 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

"𝐍𝐨, 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. "𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩, 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. "𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤.

"𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭- 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐮𝐲" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟.

"𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲" 𝐇𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐛 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

"𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. "𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐤?" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞-𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐈 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

"𝐇𝐦𝐦, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡. "𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐍𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐘/𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. "𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐤" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫, "𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭" 𝐇𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐧.

"𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

"𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

"𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

"𝐈 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝.

"𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬" 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞.

"𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩" 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧.

"𝐂'𝐦𝐨𝐧" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦.

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, "𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧" 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤!

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆🎀

[finniestoncrane]

OH BOY! How about Office Eddie nsfw headcanons? I love that dweeb at the office with a dark streak and honestly just want anything about him 💚

Dano!Riddler x Fem!Reader Headcanons oooooooooh yeah!! i've started writing a little outline for something like this but longer!! this is a good excuse to test some things out and see what works >:3c 🐀💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: voyeurism, pervert eddie, peeping tom, spying, non-consensual stuff, masturbation, unintentional cum swallowing

listen, employment in a nice office isn't all that common in gotham, and you're lucky you're not behind a bar serving sleazy wannabe rogues or hustling for what little money you can get, so you're willing to put up with your shy and quiet and kinda dweeby co-worker

but that's only because you have no idea about all the weird stuff he's up to...

eddie is smitten immediately by you, but he doesn't speak to you at all for the first two weeks you're sharing an office with him

it makes you a little uncomfortable, but he slowly warms up and offers you a hello and a goodbye

when he starts talking to you a bit more, it's about quite dark and deep subjects

it's almost like he's trying to guage your response to decide if you're a good person

or one of the people he goes on about, the undeserving masses

he's nice enough though, and you find that he's very helpful and willing to guide you with the tasks

and you quickly notice that he's far smarter than you, and is willing to hold himself accountable for your training

this seemingly kind gesture isn't selfless, however, it's actually his way of getting closer to you

and to have you depending on him for your job

it's not something you notice at first, if at all, but edward always offers to look your work over before passing it on to the bosses

he's changing it without you knowing though, making sure there are little mistakes that have you reprimanded

eddie delivers that bad news of course, and offers to show you how to fix your errors

you're so grateful that you hug him, or compliment him, and so he can hardly stop doing it

besides, the stupider you feel, the more you'll have to rely on him, and the more you'll view him as smart and wonderful

and in order to keep you thinking that, he'll criticise you sometimes

nothing too mean, not too obvious

but enough that he can see your pupils widening and your skin flushing when he does compliment you

"don't worry, i won't tell the bosses"

gosh, you owe him so much... maybe he'll cash in the favours someday

eddie has the keys to the office and he unlocks it every morning, since he's always there a lot earlier than you

you never question why, but it's so he can set things up

you wouldn't believe how many cameras are hidden in the little space you share

under the desk, in the toilet, in the stationary cupboard

and the work laptop he offered to set up for you?

the webcam is hacked, so he can watch you at home

because at a certain point, he can't stand not to be around you or to know what you're up to when you clock out for the day

and that includes when you leave the room to go to the toilet

he had to drill a hole in the wall of the cupboard between the office and the bathroom, just so he can keep an eye on you

and he finds his behaviour escalating, like an experiment to see how far he can go

it starts with him touching himself under his desk, rubbing his hands over his erection and trying to keep quiet

rubbing against you in the elevator, placing his hands on your shoulders as he stands behind you, staring down your blouse

asking you to reach up high or down low to watch the way your clothes move to expose you

messing with the ac, watching you sweat when it's too hot, watching your nipples harden when it's too cold

then he starts messing with the cables under his desk a lot, something with the wiring you don't understand

but it's an excuse to stare at your legs, trying to get a peek up your skirt

and then before you know it, your sweet coworker is masturbating into your coffee creamer

waiting to see if you can taste the difference, to see if you recognise him on your tongue

[entitled-fangirl]

Sleepless night.

Battinson x wife!reader

Summary: Sometimes, the man who cares for the city needs someone to care for him. Just cute fluff☺️

Warnings: talk of Batman things- blood, crime, etc.

A/n: Did someone in my inbox inspire me to rewatch this beauty of a movie? And did I write this while doing so? Yes. Expect more of this Batty Daddy. Italics indicate a flashback.

Masterlist

............................................

"Bruce."

The tired man's head tilted up. He looked awful, eye black smeared down his face. 

You'd been around long enough to know that Bruce never took breaks. You had to practically beg him to take care of himself. He was too self-less. Too full of heart. Or maybe the opposite. Too focused on revenging everything taken from him. One thing was sure- Bruce Wayne would do anything to get what he wants.

He'd been down in his Cave for hours- spending the night out on patrol and the entire next day tweaking things in his BatCave. Now, the night falls again, but you're determined to get him to stay tonight.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "What time is it?"

You can't help your smile. You're down here in your pajamas, trying to coerce him upstairs. It's obvious what time it is. And Bruce is hyperaware of everything. He knows everything. But he just wants to hear your voice.

You don't give in quite yet. You socked feet pad through the cave until you're at his side, looking over the screen he's been looking at for hours. There's no way his retinas don't have the sight burned in at this point. 

You want to touch him. To rub your hands over his shoulder and relive the tension that's been there for hours. To kiss him until he's forced to take you upstairs to satisfy you.

But Bruce isn't touchy. Especially not like this. So, you accept your place next to him. "What is all this?" You ask him.

"Code" is all he answers back.

You hum and run a hand over his desk. Dust collects on your fingertips. "Was gonna go to bed. When was the last time you ate, Bruce?"

His head tilts and you follow the direction. There's an half-eaten bowl of pasta from dinner that Alfred had brought down. 

There's silence for a while. It's obvious that part of him knows he needs sleep. 

"Come to bed," you try in the sweetest voice you can muster. 

He doesn't look at you, still staring straight ahead. You can feel the turmoil inside him. 

"Bruce," you whisper. "Come to bed with me."

He is after all, still a man. And a man can hardly resist when his wife begs for him to love her.

His head turns, taking you in from head to toe as you lean against the table.

Three years ago, you met Bruce. No. You met Batman. 

When you were young, your older, rebellious brother died at the hands of a Gotham criminal. His death was horrific and brutal. The media ate it up, and your life was changed.

You remembered the police officer that sat with you. His voice was kind. It almost made the sight of people in white forensic suits inspecting your brother's body bearable.

Years later, you were one of the one's in a white forensic suit. A medical examiner for Gotham.

That's when you met him.

A violent, bloody death had occurred. And Gordon let him in. 

You were bent at the knee, examining the stab wounds on a dead senator's neck. 

"Making any headway, Dr.?" Gordon asked. 

"Got a few ideas," you mutter, scribbling something down on your notepad. It's practically chicken scratch, but you know exactly what it says. "Gonna take a few samples before I meet up with t-" the words die off when you tried to turn to look at him, only to be met with the sight of dark combat boots. Your eyes trial up them slowly, taking in the man standing at your side until you reach his face. He's already looking at you. Batman.

That first night, Bruce looked over the footage in his contacts for hours, wanting to know everything about you that he could find. He was… suspicious of you. Yeah, sure. That's why. That's what he told himself.

He loved to just look at you. 

He had seen so much blood. So much death. You were as hurt as he was. But when he looked at you, he saw life.

"What time is it?" He asked again.

"You know exactly, Bruce Wayne," you scold.

"2:38," he answers immediately.

You pull all the stops, letting out a tired whine. "Take me to bed."

Your distress is his agony. You don't mean to take advantage of it, but sometimes you have to or Bruce will let himself go to places he shouldn't.

He sighs, standing up. He ignores the protest in his legs. His hand wanders up to the back of your neck, the pads of his fingers heavy yet soothing.

He gently leads you back up to the Manor, leaving everything. 

You don't waste much time when the door to your bedroom closed, cleaning up Bruce as much as he'd allow. You take his shirt off with practiced hands, even wincing yourself at the bruises on his ribs. 

You set him down on the bed, getting a wet rag and wiping his face. You're beyond gentle. It's something he loves- hates- no, loves about you. 

You are almost too different from Bruce. And yet, you're the same. 

He keeps his hands in his lap as you work, almost like he's trying to be polite. Like he'd do anything to keep you from being uncomfortable. 

As if you hadn't happily given him your body and soul.

But you love that about him. He's a confident bitch, but so unsure at times.

You take his hands yourself, placing them on your hips before cleaning his face again.

His fingers twitch individually, like he's remembering how to move each one. Then, he gently squeezes.

The poor washcloth was a pure white one. Alfred took pride in keeping his cleaning cloths a perfect white. Now, it's an ugly grey, black smeared in places. 

You're more content now. You can at least admire his face without dirt and eye black. 

"Take me to bed, huh? C'mon, big guy," you tease him. "Show me all those muscles you've been working on."

He shies under your praise. 

…

Bruce's hands gently wake you. "Your phone."

You groan and roll over, picking it up from the bedside table. 

Gordon.

You spare Bruce a pitying glance before answering.

"Dr. Wayne? The mayor is dead. I need you at his home as soon as possible. I'll send the address now."

Bruce's hand on your arm tightens.

"Be there in twenty," you mumble. You drop your phone to the bed and sit up.

Bruce watches you closely, like he always does. Observing. Calculating. It's a comforting thing at this point. The way his eyes catch the minimal light in your shared bedroom.

"Seems my vengeance starts in the early mornings," you jest in a serious tone.

His grasp on your arm hasn't faltered.

"Are you gonna go?" You ask him. In another life, you could both revel publically in the fact that you solve the biggest Gotham crimes together. But he's the Batman. And you're Dr. Wayne.

He nods. 

You lay back down, pushing yourself against him until your faces are inches apart.

"You're going to be careful," he says. Maybe it was supposed to be a question, but you don't mind that it's more of a demand.

You tip your chin up, pressing your lips to his.

For a man with steel reflexes, he is always so slow to respond to you. But when he does…

His arms wrap their way around you. His lips eagerly chase after yours, taking what he can get.

Gotham takes more than it gives. But it gave you Bruce. 

........................................................

[egonkula]

tbh. I want him

[writeoffside]

DOCUMENTS AND DESTINIES

♯ battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader - 1/?

summary: An unexpected visitor comes to your work to check out the history of his company, which leads you both to a tense search for the much needed files… Which is pretty tiring for you.

warnings: none - just swearing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: working on part 2 now hihihi

The time went slowly when you were stuck in the office. The uncountable amount of times you've checked the clock is absurd. 

Papers are all over the table, every single document staring at you back. The highly reflective colored highlighters sitting at the side of your desk. Nearly at their lowest as they've been used so many times in the past few hours. The documents are full of names, places, words, numbers and other symbols. Some names are unknown to you, some familiar. 

A sigh escapes your lips, turning to the side to look at the clock on the other side of the room.

It was finally reaching the time you were mostly looking forward to. 

5:58, the clock read. 

"Thank god," you whispered out to yourself. Slowly gathering all the papers from your table and closing the work laptop in front of you. All the papers are quickly gathered on top of each other and put into a dark purple-colored folder. The color is slowly ripped around the edges of the folder as it has been in use for a very long time. A white — now dark pastel brown like color sticker is in the middle of it. The sticker is pulled at the edges,

but still stays on. Your name written on top of it, written with a dark blue pen. You don't have the heart to switch the folder with a new one. It holds too many memories. 

In a quick time, all of the things you've had on your table are safely packed and put inside your bag. All the documents are starting to overflow your folder, which ends up taking the whole space in your bag. You know well that your shoulder is going to be hurting pretty badly when you come back home with the bag draped over it. 

Your boss had barged inside your office just a few days ago with multiple folders on top of each other in his hands. When he dropped them all onto your table, it felt like the table itself would drop as well and break down just there. 

He started talking about how he needs the documents to be checked, corrected, and put out into mails, then returned... And more instructions were flying onto you from his mouth. Which you've totally ignored, but gave him a nod as you pretended to listen to his instructions. The amount of documents there could be counted into hundreds and hundreds.

Now, thankfully, you were about to just go home and enjoy your night by yourself!

Or so you have thought.

As you were about to move your chair back to the table and make your way out of your office, a knock sounded on your door. Which sounded completely different from the knock your boss' usually gives you on your office door.

With a deep sigh, you made your way towards the door and pushed it open. The person who was standing behind the door was someone that nobody in the entire building would expect.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

"Daniel's not here," you quickly muttered out the first thing that came to your mind. Mentally slapping yourself for such an answer. Of course, your boss wouldn't be there... In your office.

"I'm not here for Mr. Meyer... The receptionist told me that you are the only one in the building with the keys to the archive. Is that so?" He asked lowly and looked back to the hallway that he most likely came from. 

"Oh! Yeah... I am the only one with the keys," you chirped, backing away from the door and walking back into your office, "I was just about to go home, but thankfully, you caught me just at the right time!" You laughed your sentence off awkwardly. He remained silent and with no other expression. His stoic' expression remained unchanged.

You opened the drawers of the cabinet, which was near the table and fumbled with the drawer, which keep the keys safe. Finally opening it and pulling out the set of keys that could open the multiple doors of the archive. The keys rattled with a sound as you picked them up from the drawer. 

Then in just a moment, you closed the drawers, stood back straight, and looked over to Mr. Wayne, who was still standing outside of the office. Now fidgeting with his fingers, with his head hung low. He stood here, waiting, with no intention to move inside the office to retrieve the keys himself from you.

He was wearing a dark set of brown pants, which weren't skinny nor baggy. A white pastel-like blouse underneath a matching dark brown jacket with its front opened. The little cufflinks with 'W' could be seen on the cuffs of the blouse. His shoes were peeking out from the bottom of the pants. His dark hair was falling into his face and his pale white skin was showing off.

You shuffled back outside and closed the door of your office. Your belongings still inside as you'll have to take the keys back and lock them up back into the drawer after you come back from the archives.  

"Okay... We can go now, this way! Down the stairs and then to the archive doors," you told him as he looked up to meet your eyes. His expression still hasn't changed since he knocked on your door. 

Both of you made your way towards the staircase with no words uttered between each of you. The steps echoed around as both of you walked down. The sound of your heels hitting the stairs echoed down the staircase. 

"If I may ask, Mr. Wayne... Why do you need to go to the archives? Is there something wrong with the documents we've sent back to the Enterprises? We can—" You were quickly cut off by his husky voice.

"No. There's no problem with the documents we've received," his voice cut your rambling quickly, "I've found something else... In the older documents. What my father might still have stored down there, in your archives... I need to check them out for certain reasons," he informed you as you reached the end of the stairs and started walking through the long, hardly lit, hallway. 

The walk to the archives felt endless.

The sound of your heels hitting the tiled floor started to echo around the hallway once again. His walk was steady and his steps were long. The awkward silence felt like it grew with each step you both took. You had to walk even quicker than before, to catch up next to him. 

"Here it is," you told him as both of you stopped in front of locked doors with a black bold writing on it 'ARCHIVES' and a smaller text underneath which said; 'RESTRICTED AREA; NO ADMITTANCE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' 

The keys jiggled as you looked through them to find the right one for the first door. The key had a little red cover on it with a little black bold number one, '1' written on it. Meaning that it's for the first door of the archives.

You unlocked the first door and turned to Mr. Wayne to let him in first. With a nod, he entered the room and walked deeper into the room. 

"Your father's documents are stored in the more 'locked up' side of the archives, the much more important side," you told him as you closed the door behind you. The room is filled with drawers, shelves and boxes full of important documents, the scent of old paper making its way to your nose.

You quickly make your way towards him, where he's standing by door with '2' written on it and some smaller text underneath it, which you don't care to read as you've been there multiple times before.

You unlock the door and let him in first again. Closing the door after the two of you. You look over as you see him stalk over to the next door at the end of the current archive room. 

God, this man has no patience.

"What's up with your father's documents, though? They've been checked, even multiple times and on different occasions... And your father, he used to—" You started rambling to him as you approached him but you were, once again, quickly cut off by him.

"I know. But I have to check something on them. For personal reasons and also to check up on our history, the Wayne Enterprises' history, with others... I know what I'm doing," he snaps back at you sternly, now looking straight at you, into your eyes. His brows furrowed. 

The tone that he spoke to you in, was no close to respectful, nor close to being polite. A scoff wanted to make its way out of your mouth, but you rather kept it shut. Your lips press into a thin line as you watch him look back at the door he waits for.

You unlocked the third door and let him in first again. He stops and looks over at you for a split of a moment and then he's turning his body away from you and heading inside, leaving you standing by the door alone. 

With another sigh, you make your way inside, closing the door after you. 

You made your way towards him, where he was standing. He was standing by the drawers with a big red 'W' written on the label, peeking from the side of the drawers. All of the drawers marked with red 'W' contained all the documents from the Wayne's. 

"You can... Um, check the documents you need. Just put them back into their place, where they were placed before," you told him as you watched him open the first set of archive drawers to check through them.

A few minutes went by, he put out about five files out onto a table next to him. He went through every single document and file, flipping through every page he came across. 

"Who's this?" He suddenly asked. His finger stopped at a certain part of the document he was reading at the moment. 

You stood up from the very much uncomfortable chair that you were sitting on. You made your way towards him and looked over to the documents that he was holding.

He lowered the documents to your height and his finger hovered above a certain name.

Scott Starkey.

His name was crossed out with a black marker. In every sentence, his name was mentioned.

You looked up to meet his eyes and then back down at the name, "He used to be close with your father. He worked hard to reach a position as your father had... Or at least one close to him. He was so ambitious and hungry for success as he, your father, had," you started telling him. Bruce's eyes stayed on you.

"His ambition to get to that position literally consumed him and morphed it all into one huge obsession. He fought against his own limitations. He didn't know when to stop... His friendship with your father started to tear, he couldn't understand why your father had achieved so much so effortlessly. His admiration turned into resentment, anger, and total hatred against him," you told him as you looked up to meet his furrowed expression. His stance was now noticeably different, he was standing straight as he listened to you.

"He dug so deep into your father's personal life. Scott started to spread your father's secrets and things about his personal life, your father's reputation wasn't going to end well for him, or anyone in the Wayne Enterprises if he would have continued," you sighed as you stopped for a moment.

"What happened to him?" Bruce suddenly rasped out into the silence with his question. He looked into your eyes and then down at the documents, which he was holding in his hands. A deep frown on his face after hearing thr backstory from you.

"I don't really know..." you mumbled out to him. Your mind going blank now. They never told anyone what had actually happened to him, he just left everything behind and never came back.

He completely disappeared.

Bruce hummed and closed the file quickly. The dust flew into the air. Floating around the two of you. The files haven't been opened for a long time now. 

A cough made its way out of you from the dust. You waved your hand around to get the dust away from your face.

Meanwhile, Bruce turned his body away and opened the next drawer, and took out the first file of documents, reading and listing through them. His brows were furrowed in concentration, eyes running over all the words, numbers, and symbols written on the paperwork.

You went back to sit in the chair you sat in moments prior. You didn't take your phone down there, so you've got no idea what the time currently is. But you know one thing and that is that you should have been home for at least an hour now. Not at work, sitting in the archives, on the most uncomfortable chair ever, and with the Bruce fucking Wayne.

You try to sit comfortably on it as you watch him go through another opened file, which is more of a yellowish color. Must be an older one than the other ones. 

As you watch him closely, you can feel your eyelids getting heavier. Your head slowly falls forward, hanging lowly. Your eyelids flutter shut and you can feel yourself drifting away into the darkness.

The sound of traffic and the rhythmic hum of a car wakes you up. 

You slowly come to your senses and open your eyes to see the road of Gotham City, full of traffic, in front of you. The rain is falling against the car.

The car. You're in a car. 

Your head quickly shoots up to look at your surroundings. You blink a few times as the very unknown and unfamiliar surroundings come into focus. 

You're seated in an unknown car in the passenger seat, with a seatbelt on. The interior of the car is black and looks way more luxurious than your car does. 

You look to the side and you finally see the driver of the car. 

Bruce Wayne is sitting at the driver's side, holding the steering wheel. His side profile is up to your eyes as you watch him from your seat. 

His eyes suddenly flicker to yours and you can see a slight hint of a smirk coming up on his face. And then it's quickly gone.

"You're awake," he says, his eyes returning to the road ahead. 

"Where... Where am I? I was at the archives. Where are my things?" you groggily ask as you push yourself away from the window that you were leaning against the moments before.

"Wait! The keys! I didn't put them back, didn't lock the doors! Oh my god, Daniel's gonna kill me!" The realization suddenly comes onto you and dawns slowly. You recall your last moments when you were at the archives; sitting in the chair, slowly falling asleep while he checked through the files. 

Bruce sighed softly at your rambling, "I locked all three doors. As well put the keys into their place and locked your office," you looked over to him once again as he talked, "your things are in the backseat, don't worry."

You slowly looked over to the backseat and saw your coat and your bag on the seat, with the dark purple folder peeking out. You smiled to yourself. 

Then the silence filled the car they were in for a brief moment.

"Thank you... For taking care of the things and taking me with you," you said to him after a few brief moments. 

You see him give you a small nod, his gaze never moving from the road and traffic ahead. His hands turn the wheel to the side as the car moves to the left. You recognize the street you're driving through.

"Wait— How'd you know where I live?" You ask him as you watch the buildings and cars go by through the window. 

"A friend of yours told me… Angus?" He answered, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment. His expression is much softer than back in the archives.

"Oh! Angus, yeah..." you sigh as you lean back into the seat, the tiredness creeping back onto you. 

You watch the buildings go by and then another turn comes. Then you see your apartment building just a few buildings away from where you're right now.

"This is me," you point out to the building you're nearly at. The building looks like any other ordinary building in Gotham.

Bruce nods as he slows the car down and parks near the curb, in front of your building entrance.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door of the car. Your feet meets the pavement and you stand up. Your body aching from the sleep.

You softly close the front door behind you and make your way toward the back door to get your things out. 

You're met with Bruce standing by the other side of the car, with your long coat and bag in his arms. He walks around the back of the car and hands you the items.

"Thank you," you utter to him softly, taking the items from his grasp, "for everything you've done for me today. Means a lot," you smile up at him.

You're so sure that you saw the corners of his mouth turn a bit upwards. A smile wanting to creep up onto his face. 

"No problem," he says after a long pause. He nods his head and leans against the back of his car, his arms folded over his chest, and closely watches you stand. 

His tone was steady but his eyes and posture said differently. His eyes held a hint of something even more. A very subtle, small smile coming up onto his face couldn't even be seen. 

An awkward silence took over your small conversation. 

You shuffled from side to side on your feet, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes once again.

"So... Well, I should probably... I should probably head in," you say with a small smile to him, clutching your bag and coat to your chest.

"Oh, yeah... Of course!" He quickly replied with a shake of his head. As he pushed himself off the car.

You gave him another shy smile and turned yourself around to leave, walking up the stairs to the entrance of the apartment building. As you reached for the door, you looked back and lifted a hesitant hand to give an awkward wave to him.

Turning back and opening the door to the building. Your steps finally met the surface of the tiled floor of your apartment building's first floor.

You take a quick glance over your shoulder and catch your eyes with him once again. 

Then he lifts his hand as well, and a very hesitant wave comes back to you. A smile plastered on his face. His smile grows as he watches you disappear into the apartment building. A warm feeling spreading through his chest. 

With a final glance at the building, he walks around and gets back into his car. The childish smile not leaving his face at all. 

The whole ride back is quiet. But he can hear his heart beat so loudly inside of his chest. As he drives, he can only think of one certain thing. His mind is stuck. 

He only thinks of you.

PART TWO

bruce wayne fic is here! i'm so obsessed with battinson hahahah

give it some love if u liked it thank uu <3

[noisylime]

“En Route”

battinson!bruce wayne x reader

nsfw (smut) • drabble

Bruce Wayne, running late to a gala—unsurprising. The real surprise was the tension between you finally coming to a head. One hand on the steering wheel, one on your thigh.

That didn't last long.

"Pull over," you demanded.

His fingers danced under your dress while yours tugged on his belt. Your head swam as you grasped his desperately hard cock. He moaned and you felt his orgasm, his cock pulsing with each spurt of cum.

"I'm sorry." His eyes were wide.

You kept your grip on his now wet cock and straddled him.

"You'd better stay hard for me."

[summercourtship]

please feel free to ignore, but 59. “tell me again” with edward? maybe reader says something reaaallly sweet to him while she’s riding him and he just freaks? like his brain goes mushy and he becomes a broken record, begging for the reader to repeat what she just said. it could be that he doesn’t want to move or reader doesn’t want him to move, but i think an internal struggle to keep his body under control would be lovely. i feel like that it fits with the whole reserved but longing for touch thing he’s got going on.

this ended up being a really short drabble BUT i really like it so. sorry it took so long lmao and sorry its kinda short.

warnings: gentle sex, dominant reader, praise | word count: 332

“You’re so pretty like this.”

Edward’s hips stuttered, and you looked down at him with coy narrowed eyes. Like you were admonishing him, but with good humor. He lay beneath you, your legs straddling his hips. Thin trails of red streaked down his pale chest from where you’d dragged your nails against his skin and you watched as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. He was trying so hard to stay composed like you’d asked him, even with the gentle roll of your hips on his cock, nestled inside of you. 

“Stay still. Be a good boy for me, can you do that?” You tilted your head back as you gradually rose and lowered yourself, slowly riding him like you had nothing but time, allowing yourself to feel and relish every inch of his cock against you. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” His voice was a broken record of whispered breaths, his hands gripping your hips with a fierce grip that betrayed his own strength. He may not look it, but if he wanted to he could flip you over and take what he wanted- what he needed. 

But that wasn’t what this was about. 

“Tell me… Tell me again.” He muttered, his eyes screwed shut like he was embarrassed to even ask. His face was flushed, his hair brushed back from his forehead. 

You looked down at him, a quirk in your eyebrow. “You’re so pretty.” He visibly sighed, his fingers twitching against you. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on the bed so you hovered over his face. “You’re such a good boy, staying still for me. Can you come for me, do you think you can do that?”

Then, softly, his mouth fell open and his hands clenched against you as he pulled you in, close. His hips rocked for a moment as his climax gently washed over him. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth as he let out a soft moan. 

“Good boy.”  

[thelovevamps]

Plsss plss plssss I need fics of this man Farrell Penguin is so hot and I'm so hungry for content give me long fics i beg u.

This is literally me

[hollandorks]

haven - masterlist

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she's expecting. Childhood friends to lovers & investigative reporter reader!

find it on ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Interlude 1 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Interlude 2 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Interlude 3 Chapter 15

[ellesthots]

repentance

bruce wayne x fem!reader

nsfw • drabble

Bruce dipped under your waistband. “Poor baby,” he purred, fingers drenched. He shifted his weight on top of you, his palm resting on the side of your neck to tilt it back. Slow open-mouthed kisses wet your skin, making you shiver.

Your hips moved in concert with his fingers as they slipped inside. You felt his grin behind your ear when you gasped. “If I’d known you were so needy,” his hand trailed from your neck to undo his belt with practiced ease. “I would’ve skipped the meeting.”

His lips found yours with a low, repentant moan. “Let me apologize.”

a/n: I got bored and thought hey what if Bruce was gone at meetings all day and you were just desperately horny and then five minutes later I had this <3

[lawrites]

2022!Oswald Cobblepot x Female Plus Size Reader

(NSFW) Oswald Cobblepot asks you to drive with him, bringing you to the local makeout point. You both discuss insecurities, past high school experiences, and your love for each other (while getting into the mood of the area, of course).

CW: body insecurity, some talks of high school, and semi-public sex (not really because Oz bought out the place 😭), dry humping, praise

Thank you for exchanging fics with me @finniestoncrane!!! I was so honored to write this for you. Hope you enjoy. 💙💙

Oswald had a specific request for you, tonight.

“Sweetheart, wanna take you somewhere nice. Can you put on that pretty, short skirt for me? You know the one.”

You do know the one. You had found it online, somewhere, at one of his favorite high end sites. A flared tennis skirt that boasted it was for bigger bodies like yours, longer in the back and accommodating for wider hips. You had tried it on when it first arrived, in front of Ozzie as usual, and his eyes darkened instantly when he saw the way it highlighted your wider hips, the waistband digging into your plush middle and making a bit of flesh round out over the top. He had gotten up, reaching for your waist instantly and tracing the softness there.

“Angel…that one's a keeper. Want me to get you more? In different colors?”

“Thank you, Ozzie.” He looked elated, as he always did when you thanked him, “But I don't think that's necessar-”

He had put one hand in his pocket to reach for his phone while you were talking, and was now holding up a hand to interrupt you. “I'm already buying you more. You deserve only the best.”

Giving you a winning smile after a minute of tapping around on his phone, his attention returned to you, he continued, “And believe me, honey, this is absolutely more of a present for me.”

So now you find yourself rushing around, trying to pull together a cohesive outfit from your admittedly massive closet. The man spoiled you, but after spending most of your life without access to anything pretty at your size…you are secretly ecstatic to have such a selection at your fingertips. The only issue is that, after years of not having access to the best clothes, trying to put together an outfit that isn't just jeans and a tee is difficult.

Eventually, you land on the skirt in a pale blue color, a simple white tank top, a soft blue cropped cardigan, and some sneakers and thigh highs. Deciding to be a little bit extra, you put your hair up into some cute space buns, wrap them in a white ribbon, and grab a minimal amount of makeup.

Making a peace sign at yourself in the mirror, you take in your smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's not necessarily that you are unexcited for this date…you're just nervous. Even now, after more than a year of being with Oz…living with him, even, you worry that you just aren't what he truly wants.

He's proven time and time again that you are, but unfortunately years of insecurity over being fat don't just go away thanks to sweet compliments and proof of attraction…but they do help. You hold your hands at your sides as you walk to the grand staircase, but can't keep them from fiddling with the edge of your skirt when you see him.

He's dressed admittedly casually for him. Dark, high quality jeans that are imported from Italy, a nice, designer cotton shirt, and a vintage leather jacket. You haven't seen him like this before, and he looks good. His chest hair peeks out from the v of the shirt, his patent leather shoes are shined, and everything is tailored perfectly.

Your hands run along and edge of your skirt and you clear your throat, gaining his attention. His eyes instantly turn your way, with a charming smile. The smile drops into an open-mouthed gaze of wonder as he takes you in. “Oh, Angel…” he starts, then stops, then starts walking towards you.

You begin to hurriedly flounce down the stairs, trying to match his own impatient pace. In your haste, you manage to trip on the last step, only to be caught, handily, by Oz. His hands grip yours, and his charming smile is back. “Woah! Where's the rush, beautiful?”

He carefully winds a hand around to the small of your back, gently nudging you towards him until you are pressed right against his front. His other hand moves to cup your chin. “Got someone special you're trying to meet?”

You blush and try to disguise how flustered you are (how flustered he makes you). “I am! Have you seen anyone special around?”

He knits his eyebrows together in an exaggerated expression of contemplation, smirking at your tease and releasing your chin to rub his own. “Hmmm, can't think of one. ‘Cept me, of course.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Well, you're certainly handsome enough to be someone important.”

Oz, almost like he can't help himself, surges forward and kisses you. It wasn't fast enough to disguise the way his cheeks turned red at your admission, however. His tongue lightly traces your lips, demanding entry, and you open up. He groans and his hands move to your hips, trying to somehow get you even closer than you already are.

Eventually you both need air, and separate from each other as you catch your breath. Your face shows the astonishment you feel, “Well, that was…unexpected. Good unexpected, though.” You grin at him and he almost sheepishly runs a hand through the hair on the back of his head.

“What can I say, Angel? You drive me crazy. I can't help myself.”

He holds out his hand, and you gladly take it. By the gentle guidance of Oz, you eventually find yourself at the entrance of his garage. The sheepishness is gone, and he looks you up and down with a dark glint in his eyes, “Whaddya say, sweetheart? Up for a late night drive?”

—-------------------------

Oz made you feel cared for, in almost every aspect of your relationship. He was a secret romantic at heart, which was part of the explanation for his behavior…but the other part was his need to show off what he has earned. What is his, and his by hard work and smarts.

And, while saying that you're his may be archaic, you certainly feel like you're his as you're driving through Gotham, his big hand on your bare thigh, tracing the bit of flesh that spills out of your thigh highs. He's casually chatting, of course, telling you about this place or that in Gotham, the history behind it, occasionally making you giggle with his stories. He looks over to you when you do, briefly, his eyes shining.

“Never going to get used to the feeling that I get when I make a pretty girl like you laugh. It's a privilege.”

You are floating, happy, maybe slightly aroused at the feel of his hands on you, when he suddenly releases your thigh as the car stops, moving to put it in park. Trying to take in your surroundings, paying attention to them properly, now, you are instead confused to see just greenery, trees, and darkness surrounding you. You turn to Oz to ask him a question, but he is already getting out of the car and moving to your side, ready to open your door.

You thank him, accepting the hand he offers and trying to see if anything around you was worth the drive. And then, you see the drop off ahead in the ground, rocky, sharp, and guarded by a crumbling fence. Still holding his hand, you look from the drop to Oz. He brings your hand up, kisses it, and then releases it, gesturing for you to investigate.

You rush forward, hearing him yell out, “Be careful, though, Dove! You don't have wings even if you are an Angel.” Pausing well within a safe distance from the edge, you peer down and see the entirety of Gotham spread out before you. The twinkling of the lights, the giant buildings, but without the noise. It's quiet, even if you can just barely see a police car with sirens on, the shrill tone doesn't reach you, here.

“Oh Oz! This is gorgeous! I've never seen Gotham like this! How did you find this place?”

You feel his hands on your shoulders, his soft front pressed against you, “This place isn't a secret. Been aware of it since high school. Would come up here and look at the city and just…think sometimes.” He turns you around so you are facing him, placing a hand under your chin. “Wanted to see your gorgeous face light up like the city when you see it from here.”

Blushing, again, you swat his hand away. “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Cobblepot.” He snorts at your teasing tone, and you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow in suspicion. “I bet you said that to all the girls when you brought them up here back then.”

His grin falters, and he seems to almost deflate in stature. “W-well I-” he cuts himself off, struggling to form a sentence. “Actually, you're the first.”

You roll your eyes, “Sure, Oz.” He holds out his hands, “No! I'm serious…I…Doll, I wasn't much of a looker in high school.” His arms drop to his sides at his admission.

His face falls, and you see a familiar expression, one that you have on your own face when you talk about high school bullies and your insecurities over your weight. Softening, you move towards him, gently bringing him in for a hug. “Oh. I didn't mean to tease you, Ozzie. I know how that feels.”

He grumbles above you, “Yeah, I know, because I have trouble believing an Angel like you had any trouble in high school, myself.” Maneuvering you so he can look at you at arms length, he whistles, “I mean, with your plump, soft body and those rosy, plush cheeks? I have a hard time believing you even want to be with me now.”

You move forward, out of his grasp, and cross your arms, hugging yourself. “Oh, I don't know about that Ozzie. I was such a nerd in high school, and I still am!” He chuckles, and looks like he's about to argue, but you continue, anyway. “I know if you went to high school with me, though, I would have had the biggest crush on you.”

He looks confused. “Really? No joke?” You shake your head, “Absolutely no joke, cross my heart. You're charming.” You bite your lip purposefully, drawing his eyes which start to darken, “You're so romantic, it makes me swoon sometimes.” Moving closer, you wind your arms around him, one at a time, looking up with big, shining eyes, “And you are exactly my type. I love your strong nose,” you kiss it, “I love your dark, gorgeous eyes,” you get on your tiptoes to flutter your eyelashes against him in a cute move that makes Oz actually giggle.

“I love your body, even if you don't,” you press yourself right against his front, making him let out a grunt, “And I guarantee that if we were in high school together, I would have let you take me up here and show me-”

His arms pull you closer, desperately, and he slams his lips into yours, effectively cutting you off. You let out a surprised sound, but then soften and let him lead. Feeling the effect you have on him, you grind against him, making him release your lips with a groan.

“God, Angel.” He's out of breath, his hands crumpling the fabric of your skirt from where he had dug them into your hips. Releasing them, he smooths it down with his hands slowly, almost worshipfully. “The idea of you, in this outfit, showing little old, ugly me in high school a good time…”

You cut him off, “We probably would have both been considered ugly in high school, then, Oz. Two weirdos together. But look at where we are now, huh?”

You reach down to hold his hand, using it to lead him to the back of the car, where you hop up onto the trunk, slightly ungracefully. Arms spread, you invite him into your embrace and he accepts, sucking in a breath as you spread your plush thighs so they surround him.

Using your arm to bring his head down, he dutifully follows and sniffs at the juncture between your shoulder and neck, moaning and beginning to nibble marks into your skin. With a breathier tone, you whisper into his ear, “King of Gotham, my King of Gotham. So powerful and smart and those idiots in high school didn't know what they were missing.”

With that, he whimpers, and his hands dig into your thighs once more, moving your skirt up and pressing, grasping, digging into the plump flesh available to him there. His hips begin to piston, slowly at first, rubbing against your center and making you choke on air.

Then he releases the spot where he had been worrying your flesh with his teeth, nuzzling his nose up the column of your throat and whispering in your ear, now. “And you're the King of Gotham’s Sweet Dove. You're my gorgeous girl.” You whine, and he starts to move even faster against you, the both of you panting.

“Ozzie! Please!” You stifle your cry as much as you can, unsure what exactly it is that you want, but the heat in your belly is removing your ability to think. You feel your wetness soaking into Oz’s front, and he just groans, “Oh, good girl. So wet for me, yeah? So pretty and plump and all mine.”

You bite your lip, self conscious, still, especially being out in the open like this. “M-messy,” you whimper, unable to voice your worry more fully. He almost coos at you, trying to calm you down and comfort you as his hips continue pressing against you in a steady rhythm, sending sparks through your body. “You think I care about a little mess, sweetheart?”

You're the one who nuzzles your head into his neck, now, unable to hold back the small pleas and whimpers and whines that are all coming from somewhere deep inside of you. Somewhere in the mess of words, you say, “K-king!”

It makes Oz stutter in his rhythm, letting out a sound like he's been punched. “T-that's right, Angel. And a King doesn't let those peasants decide who he is or what he does.” With that, he snakes a hand around between you, maneuvering until he is under your panties, circling around your bundle of nerves and making you throw your head back, moaning out more pleas.

He chuckles. “Always wanted to hear a pretty girl scream out my name up here. Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?” The next word comes out desperately, like he needs to hear it, “Please.”

You start to chant his name, which makes him finally press his finger against your clit. “Oz! Ozzie! Oh! Oswald!” Your legs spasm and your mouth easily forms his name, your thighs hugging hard around his sides and forcing him to press right against you. He groans out, “God, my Angel,” and you feel him still as he grunts and growls against your neck.

Catching your breath together, you eventually separate a bit, the heaviness of the summer air and the stickiness combining to make you both feel a bit…gross. Chuckling, Oz removes his leather jacket. What little light exists around you highlights the sweat on his soft, strong arms, making your legs press together again.

He sees you, and lets out a moan. “Sweetheart, I love yah, but you’ve worn me out.” He throws his jacket casually in the back of the car and you collapse onto your back on the trunk, the exhaustion finally reaching your body. You let out a squeak as you feel Oz press against your thighs, removing your panties and cleaning you up with a wet wipe.

Sitting up, press a sweet kiss to his nose and thank him. He smiles serenely at you and you both contentedly sit, for a moment, before you remember where you are. Your heart seizes with anxiety and you push him away getting off the trunk and gesturing wildly with your hands, “Oz! We did that in public! Where anyone could see! What were we thinking! I-”

He laughs, a full belly laugh, and you turn to him with your hands at your hips. “What's so funny, Oz?”

He wipes a tear away, “Sorry, doll, didn't mean to mock you.” He looks fairly proud as he admits, “I own this place, and most of the place around it. I usually open it up to others but tonight…I made sure no one else would be up here.”

Your demeanor shifts to one of relief. “Oh, thank God.” He brings you to him, pressing your back against his front and hugging you from behind. “Oh, I'm not God, Sweetheart, but I'll take the thanks all the same.”

You swat at him, and he chuckles. Then, he groans and presses his head against your shoulder. His voice comes out hesitantly, “Besides, I didn't need anyone seeing me coming in my pants like a fucking teenager over a pretty girl.”

You join him when he laughs, and his wandering hands go to your sensitive spots, seeking out ticklish areas to make you giggle with glee even more. Two weirdos, indeed.

---------------------

....anyway hope you enjoyed! 💙💙

[amourlyns]

❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

𐙚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which batman visits crime alley, and the reader indulges the bat with sweet notes and baked goods.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: none

𐙚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: inspired by this post. thought it was the cutest thing ever and i wanted to write it out, something short n sweet !! dedicated to @armin-ocean-eyes

⟡ ⠀ | 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲. Of course, The Bat doesn’t want to jinx his nightly patrol but (…) it’s been nice.

In all honestly, it finally felt like a break. A time to hunker down and take time to focus on his parents. A stroll through Crime Alley would do. Bruce never forgets about his parents, nor does he forget that night. He comes back to remind himself of what happened. How he couldn’t stop it. How he failed to protect them. It’s a constant reminder, a punishment.

Tension never leaves Bruce’s body. He’s always so high strung, constantly prepared for fight or flight. Shoulders are tense, brows are furries and teeth are gritted. This was his very being now.

Late nights, cold and oh, so lonely. The heavy bass of boots sloshing through rain water across the concrete street. Vengeance has filled the role of Gotham’s protector for long enough to know everything about the city he tirelessly protects. He knows this city better than anyone else.

But he still can’t stomach the alleyway.

Today, Bruce doesn’t bring flowers, but he brings himself. And hopefully, that’s enough for them.

From above the street, unbeknownst to the Bat. He has an angel, a watcher if you will. The city has swallowed him whole and spat him right back at out tonight. Senses are diminished, hazy from the beatings of tonight. Usually, he’s more attentive than this.

Funnily enough, you just moved into the city of Gotham three weeks ago. It’s a dreary, dull city. But at least it’s away from home. Right? Sure, the apartment you were currently living in definitely seemed haunted and it literally oversaw the alleyway the Waynes died in. Why did no one tell you they got mugged? (…) But what could you do? It’s shitty but the only thing you could afford in this damned economy.

And dude, it was definitely haunted.

You actually thought you were hallucinating the first time you laid your eyes on it. The fucking Bat, Vengeance. Gotham Cities actuals protector? It was odd and horrifying. You expected to see him raging through the alley in his moody glory. Big, defiant, and spooky!

But he actually seemed defeated? In a way? His strides were slow. Then, he knelt down onto the pavement and stayed there. It’s weird, this habitual routine of the Bat coming by and kneeling happened constantly. Well, to be fair he did patrol your building after that. Scouring the rooftops for any signs of peril within the area.

When he was done, he would come back to your building and linger on the fire escape. Sometimes you could hear his heavy footsteps on the rooftops or the iron steps.

Now, no one ever said you were the brightest in the bunch. You moved to Gotham for goodness sake. Anyways, you decided to actually make contact with the Bat. Which in theory, sounds like a good idea because who wouldn’t want a hero in their pocket? Well, a vigilante. But you digress (…) If coming near the alley brings him down, maybe he needs a lift?

The general idea was, leave a note or a gift for Vengeance and leave him be. So, that’s how it begun.

It was the third time Bruce visited the crime alley. This time, he had the intention to make his trip revolve only around his parents.

But then he saw you.

Granted, you were definitely not expecting to see anyone or someone like the Batman at this time of night. So you scrambled off of your balcony and dropped some sort of post-it note on the way out. There were three things on Bruce’s mind. How many times have you seen him and did you know his habits or who he was? Paranoia gnaws away at his guts and creates a nasty hole in his stomach.

He was a master of overthinking.

The Bat was quick to snatch up the post-it note you dropped, taking the time to read and analyze your penmanship. Was it lined with some sort of poison? Was it a tracking device? He waits for a moment. Grunting at the words etched into the paper.

〞I don't know what you're going through but I know you'll get through it. Xoxo. 〞

Huh.

Alfred would tease him for this.

An admirer? He was stumped.

It’s been about a week since you’ve seen Vengeance, your gifts of food and ever abundant notes never stopped though. You were starting to think he changed his route ever since that night he caught you on the railing.

First off, he was terrifying up close (the man was ten feet away) and second off, how was he able to catch you. Some part of you expected the man to interrogate you or something.

He didn’t, thank goodness. But you kind of missed seeing the cryptic Bat.

On the other hand, Bruce decided to do some research on you. A through background check would never hurt and who knows if you wanted to kill him? It could all be a facade. Each baked good and beverage you left out for the Bat was analyzed and tested. It could’ve been poisoned, laced, or worst, set to detonate. He was taking precautions. But Alfred insisted it was a good gesture.

Whatever it was, you never stopped. Bruce changed his route of course, there was no reason to let his guard down. But, he did appreciate the notes. To an extent. He just couldn’t help but think of the uncertainty.

The latest one he was holding onto was nothing short of thoughtful.

〞I hope you're having a good day :) (Btw, I haven’t seen you around!〞

So for the most part you were attentive. So he could commend you for that.

Despite all of the alarms in his brain telling him to stick to the new route, he returns to the old route for your sake. The very least he could do was thank you for the messages and treats. At least, that’s what Alfred said. For once, he didn’t feel like being stubborn and listened. The first thing he saw was your silhouette against the glass of your sliding door. Then, your emergence.

Bruce is frozen in place. But you’re waving frantically and running down the steps to greet him. Should he turn away? Just leave and never show up again? What if ⸻

❛ OHMYGOSH, OH MY GOSH. YOU’RE REAL! YOU’RE HERE! I WAS STARTING TO THINK I WAS BEING DELUSIONAL AND SEEING THINGS. WHOA, YOU’RE TALLER IN PERSON. AND LIKE SCARY. SORRY, SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN THAT. WOW. ❜

You’re realizing how that sounded; Bruce notices how you cower in fear. Despite his own anxiety driving him up a wall. The least he could do was say thank you, or show his appreciation. It takes him a few moments to say anything. He can hardly hold eye contact, but it eventually comes out.

❛ I (…) I APPRECIATE IT. ❜

Well. You definitely didn’t expect him to sound like that. His response was so soft you couldn’t even tell if he was directing that towards you. It was so quiet he might as well been talking to himself⸻ and before you could even ask him another question, he’s gone by the time you look up.

Introvert much?

[finniestoncrane]

If I could request Reevesverse penguin with an absolutely needy as fuck reader. Like they’ve already cum like 3 times but they are BEGGING FOR MORE 🙏🙏🙏

Please and thank you! Your writing just… goosebumps

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 700 good god i want him to dehydrate me to the point that i'm just a wee withered crisp sitting on his lap HNG 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fingering, kissing, groping

Oswald lifted his hand to his mouth, inhaling as he brought his fingers into his mouth, parted lips closing around them as he savoured the taste of you. Your slick, your arousal, your satisfaction, all of it dancing on his taste buds as he sucked his fingers clean of you. Even at your third orgasm, you tasted as sweet, as strong, as you did the first time he'd made you cum that evening.

Through almost closed lips, too fatigued to even open your mouth properly, you mumbled your pleas.

"Ozzie... I could... I could go again..."

"Are you kiddin', sweetheart? You'll pass out."

He looked at your eyes, glazed over, lust-filled even after your two previous orgasms, both of them pleasurable and satisfying, but clearly not enough to completely cure your hunger.

"I'm fine, I can take it. I want it, please. Please."

It was hard for him to say no to you. A lot of his sense of pride, his affections, his dominance, his masculinity even, they all hung on his ability to spoil you. To treat you as he knew you deserved. But there was a little bit of him that delighted in teasing. And beyond even that, there was a distinct pleasure in hearing you beg him. It made his cock throb each time your lips formed the elongated vowel in the middle of your "please". Being wanted felt good, being needed felt even better.

"Whaddaya think this is, baby? Some kind of charity case? I'm a busy man, sweetheart. I gotta get back to work."

You reached out for him, catching the sleeve of his suit jacket as he moved to flatten the collar down, pulling him back to you and finding him surprisingly easy to control, almost like he was expecting you to keep begging, or that he wanted you to. One he was seated again, you shifted yourself onto his lap, ample space for you on his thick, wide thighs to get comfortable.

"No, please... come on, Ozzie. Once more, just a little more. It won't take much, I swear. Just your fingers again... I'm so close already."

You were writhing in the seat, jerking your hips a little as you tried to find the friction you were desperate for him to give you. Oswald watched your body moving, how it seemed so desperate, so needy, and the familiar stir at the front of his pants threatened to give him away.

Reaching down the front of your already soaked underwear, his fingers trailed over your swollen, tingling lips, the cool of his ring making your whole body twitch, head thrown back with a gasp as he spread your folds open. One finger tickled up the length of your entrance, teasing over your clit.

He cooed, a warm rumble from his chest that sent a shiver over you. As you digested it, let it warm you, surround you, he leaned in, a soft kiss pressed to the front of your throat, Oswald's strong nose against you, nuzzling into you.

"Please... please, Ozzie... please..."

Begging him always worked. He liked to be needed, to be wanted. To have you so desperate that you were willing to debase yourself just to get what you were pleading for.

You were close already, riding on the high of your previous climaxes, rocking yourself back and forth on Oswald's fingers as he kissed your throat, tongue flitting out over his lips to taste you, not quite satisfied with how much of you he had already savoured.

With you fucking yourself on his fingers, he let himself grab at your body, anywhere his hands could reach he touched, held, aiding you in the rough rocking that was getting you off. And he pulled you closer as you whined, shaking and convulsing as you orgasm took control of your muscles and limbs, the heat spreading through you, dissipating slowly with the relief it always brought.

Holding you to his chest, Oswald sighed, satisfied in his own efforts. He was a man of his word, it was important to him to stick to it. But if you asked again, for just one more, he would have to oblige.