Gonna make sure to beat you down there, then, and throw your clothes in the bushes to boot. Asshole.
[The words are barely out of him as a retort before glancing down at the man, and he notices once again that V’s struggling to keep himself awake. Johnny won’t do much more to keep him up, and—maybe after a minute or two or watching him doze off, chest straining in an embarrassingly doting way—he’ll let the night crawl on a little longer before he tries to get some shut-eye himself.
When V eventually wakes up, after morning’s finally lumbered over the outdoor horizon, Johnny will be gone. But in his stead lies V’s clothes, piled up next to him, as though awaiting the merc’s attention.
A red guitar is propped up, too, next to a windowsill, shining in the morning sun.]
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Gonna make sure to beat you down there, then, and throw your clothes in the bushes to boot. Asshole.
[The words are barely out of him as a retort before glancing down at the man, and he notices once again that V’s struggling to keep himself awake. Johnny won’t do much more to keep him up, and—maybe after a minute or two or watching him doze off, chest straining in an embarrassingly doting way—he’ll let the night crawl on a little longer before he tries to get some shut-eye himself.
When V eventually wakes up, after morning’s finally lumbered over the outdoor horizon, Johnny will be gone. But in his stead lies V’s clothes, piled up next to him, as though awaiting the merc’s attention.
A red guitar is propped up, too, next to a windowsill, shining in the morning sun.]