Release the Sharks

For a scarred bald chick, she was hot. Hendrick tilted his glass and watched her over the rim. Even dressed in civvies, she was obviously army. Toned muscles and wary body-language spoke ground forces, while her reflective garnet eyes boasted enhanced.

The bartender shouted a name, ‘Vic!’, and gorgeous perked up. He handed her a wire and she took it with an easy grin.

Hendrick saw her mouth one word, ‘ya’, then she knocked back her drink and gave back the phone. Not much of a conversation, three seconds max. Didn’t matter now, cause hot-stuff was smirking straight at him.


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About azhwi

An editing student, graduated Feb 2012. An avid fan of video games, fanfiction, anime, writing, and the serial comma.
This entry was posted in Man-Made Wings, Post-Trauma, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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