More Faith/ Mcnulty...
Apr. 7th, 2023 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chicatingIt might have gone on as these things often went on: Bunk resurrecting his impression of a lecher half in the bag to make his partner look like the safe bet to talk to and then he could swoop in and have his fun. Bunk tried not to judge; it was a kind of fun that they’d shared in the past, but that’s not what happened this particular night. Bunk went out and got fresh air, at some point both detectives lost track of the feisty brunette in an oasis of raucous shop talk, but the rain stopped and the unaccustomed chill was good for his head.
It might have gone on as these things often went on: Bunk resurrecting his impression of a lecher half in the bag to make his partner look like the safe bet to talk to and then he could swoop in and have his fun. Bunk tried not to judge; it was a kind of fun that they’d shared in the past, but that’s not what happened this particular night. Bunk went out and got fresh air, at some point both detectives lost track of the feisty brunette in an oasis of raucous shop talk, but the rain stopped and the unaccustomed chill was good for his head.
Still, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw that night. The girl, Faith, came out with a woman with dyed blonde hair and the smeared raccoon eyes of a weepy drunk got caught by what looked like a scrawny skel(who, despite his lack of size, was doing his best to look menacing.) She guided the blonde away, and rose to her full height to face the skel.(It must have been some trick of the light that made his eyes look yellow over his concert t-shirt. Maybe Bunk was still a little buzzed.
Bunk debated whether to intervene, but just in the time he stood there, Faith pulled something out of her black purse and pointed it at Yellow Eyes’ neck as the blonde just repeated the phrase “Oh, shit,” in every possible inflection. Faith grabbed Yellow Eyes around the neck and pressed something—a stun gun?-against his spindly neck.
Then, a cloud of dust, and Yellow Eyes disappeared.
“Damn!” Bunk breathed.
It might have gone on as these things often went on: Bunk resurrecting his impression of a lecher half in the bag to make his partner look like the safe bet to talk to and then he could swoop in and have his fun. Bunk tried not to judge; it was a kind of fun that they’d shared in the past, but that’s not what happened this particular night. Bunk went out and got fresh air, at some point both detectives lost track of the feisty brunette in an oasis of raucous shop talk, but the rain stopped and the unaccustomed chill was good for his head.
Still, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw that night. The girl, Faith, came out with a woman with dyed blonde hair and the smeared raccoon eyes of a weepy drunk got caught by what looked like a scrawny skel(who, despite his lack of size, was doing his best to look menacing.) She guided the blonde away, and rose to her full height to face the skel.(It must have been some trick of the light that made his eyes look yellow over his concert t-shirt. Maybe Bunk was still a little buzzed.
Bunk debated whether to intervene, but just in the time he stood there, Faith pulled something out of her black purse and pointed it at Yellow Eyes’ neck as the blonde just repeated the phrase “Oh, shit,” in every possible inflection. Faith grabbed Yellow Eyes around the neck and pressed something—a stun gun?-against his spindly neck.
Then, a cloud of dust, and Yellow Eyes disappeared.
“Damn!” Bunk breathed.
