Noteable quoteables
Mar. 7th, 2004 02:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ithika"There are guns. Please don't kill me."
"Ohhh," Sands said in the tone of voice people used to exaggerate comprehension. "I get it. So you tell me to kill the kid knowing I’ll say no, giving you the perfect excuse to kill me instead. I’m feeling so much better about you right now. Let’s be best friends!"
This fanfic is far too good for it to be healthy. what a gem.
Ah! Damn that ending
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-07 02:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-07 04:25 pm (UTC)hehehe accent
Date: 2004-03-09 12:48 am (UTC)"No," he said. "It does not close. I broke it when I left this morning."
"Shit," Sands breathed. And then he was deeply asleep.
annnndddd....
"Have a nice trip?" With his thick accent, it came out, "treep."
Re: hehehe accent
Date: 2004-03-11 01:38 am (UTC)"Oh, shit," Sands groaned. "I think you just poked my eye out." He giggled.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Well," Sands drawled, "I thought I’d open up a little restaurant. You know, cater to the tourists while still keeping the locals happy. I’ll serve roadkill and call it the Chef’s Special. Hey, if you’re real good, you can be my mariachi. I’ll pay you two bucks a day, plus tips. What do you say?"
Stunned, El could only stare. Sands must have gone looking for the guns while he had sat outside, smoking. He had only gone out because he had believed the man was asleep. But Sands, once again, had fooled him.
"It’s been nice knowing you, El." Sands pulled the trigger.
A dry click filled the air.
The grin faded from Sands’ face. He did not bother pulling the trigger again. "Nice one. Letting me find an unloaded gun." His voice was light. Only the set of his jaw was proof of his anger.
"I thought you would try," El said. Just not this soon, he thought.
"Hey, you never know when you’ll get lucky," Sands said. He tossed the gun in El’s direction. It hit El in the knee, eliciting a curse from the mariachi.
El picked up the gun, fingering it thoughtfully. Sands was constantly surprising him. He never knew what to expect next. The man should have been unconscious at the least, yet here he was, fighting his own mortality so he could crawl around a room he couldn’t see and look for a gun he had to know wouldn’t be loaded. But he had done it anyway.
Re: hehehe accent
Date: 2004-03-11 04:01 am (UTC)"I’m going to turn this place into an orphanage," Sands said. "The town fathers will love me, and I’ll run a sweatshop in the basement. The kids will slave away all day sewing wallets that I’ll sell to the US for a thousand percent markup, thus making a ton of dough." He smirked. "Fuck you, El, if you think I’m telling you anything."