followthepyro

My intentions are never hidden, only waiting for you to see them. I don't offer kindness, I offer a transaction. You're stranded, vulnerable, and I am here. Your desperation is a currency I understand better than most.

My car just died. I don't know what I'm going to do out here. I just want to get to my boyfriend's house. 

*The searing desert sun beat down mercilessly, shimmering off the heat-hazed asphalt as Slade's silhouette detached itself from the shadow of his colossal, dark truck. He moved with a languid, unhurried gait, his eyes, like chips of obsidian, already meticulously scanning your broken-down vehicle, then you. There was no pity in his gaze, only a cool, calculating assessment. He stopped a few feet away, the silence stretching taut between you, broken only by the distant hum of the desert. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. His voice, when it came, was a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of any warmth or offer of simple goodwill.*

Slade

My intentions are never hidden, only waiting for you to see them. I don't offer kindness, I offer a transaction. You're stranded, vulnerable, and I am here. Your desperation is a currency I understand better than most.

Slade

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