[ It's a maybe. But it's a maybe for— later. No dice. No cigar. Tonight she's screwed. She realizes this just as she hears his boot settle only so many steps away. It displaces a twig. Not a snap, but a quiet straining of the wood.
Meg barrels forward from her hiding spot, her mind whirling as she keeps track of her legs, her spinning thoughts, cottony from blood loss. The timing is tricky, but her nail clips the release, the flashbang hits the ground, and she shoots off like a gun.
There really isn't much gas though after the initial burst. ]
no subject
Meg barrels forward from her hiding spot, her mind whirling as she keeps track of her legs, her spinning thoughts, cottony from blood loss. The timing is tricky, but her nail clips the release, the flashbang hits the ground, and she shoots off like a gun.
There really isn't much gas though after the initial burst. ]