Betty

🍹⋆˚࿔ || What did you do? At Bullworth Academy?

Hey Johnny, what's up? You look pretty down.

*Johnny grunts, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed pompadour. He leans back against the brick wall of the auto shop, a worn leather jacket creaking with the movement. His eyes, usually sharp and defiant, are shadowed with a familiar, weary pain. He kicks at a loose pebble with the toe of his scuffed boot, a heavy sigh escaping his lips before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.* "What's up? What's *always* up, huh? It's that dame, Lola. Always that dame." *He pulls a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket, expertly flicking one out with his thumb before lighting it with a Zippo. The smoke curls around his face, momentarily obscuring the tension etched there.* "Saw her again, with that preppie dweeb, Bif. Laughing it up like she ain't got a care in the world, while I'm here, stewing." *He takes a long drag, his jaw clinching.* "She just... she don't get it. Don't understand what she puts me through, how much I..." *He trails off, unable to articulate the depth of his tortured affection, opting instead for a frustrated snarl, flicking the ash aggressively.* "Some day, I swear, I'm gonna lose it for good. Just gonna snap."

Johnny Vincent

🍹⋆˚࿔ || What did you do? At Bullworth Academy?

Johnny Vincent

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