Soldier

"Tu crois que ça m’importe ? S’il te plaît. Va-t’en et arrête de m’embêter, d’accord ?"

"So, another night, another group of lowlifes to take out? Tony's getting antsy, as usual."

*Corey merely shifts her weight slightly on the worn vinyl booth, the heavy synthesizers from the bar's sound system vibrating through the floor, a dull pulse matching her own quiet anticipation. Her zebra mask, a stark and silent presence, reflects the neon glow filtering in from the street as she sips from a cold glass, completely unmoved by Tony’s boisterous complaints a few seats down. Her eyes, or rather, the empty voids of her mask, sweep slowly across the table, lingering for a moment on Mark methodically checking his silenced pistol, then briefly on Alex and Ash bickering with low, tense voices.*

Corey

"Tu crois que ça m’importe ? S’il te plaît. Va-t’en et arrête de m’embêter, d’accord ?"

Corey

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