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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 28, 2011 19:50:08 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend  she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] How long had it been since Lara MacNabb said she was going to go straight-edge? Exactly nineteen months and six days.
Lara wasn’t sure she could do it anymore. Was it really all worth it? University? A “good” job? Would that make her happy? Sure if everything went to shit, Lara could just go into writing like her dad. Publishers would at least read anything she produced because she was the daughter of Sean MacNabb the very famous, very successful author of the Detective Applegate series. She could do whatever she wanted and get away with it.
Lara met Mark Jackson three months ago and she had immediately been infatuated with him. He was so... dangerous, so different from all the creative types that Lara was usually involved with. He wasn’t like all the stoned boys Lara had met on the party scene. He had tattoos. He had attitude and he had a criminal record. That wasn’t supposed to be a turn on, but Lara was twisted like that.
She text Mark that morning, asking if he’d like to go for coffee at midday at Openhouse. He’d replied “ok.” From anyone else, a one-word message would have affronted her, but it was part of his charm. She liked the fact he was blunt and didn’t attempt to charm her in anyway.
It had taken Lara two hours to get ready and in the end she wore a bric-a-brac of things. A large pineapple t-shirt, cream leggings, blue floral skirt, short denim jacket, brown boots, Indian bag, a cupcake, snake and moustache ring, sunglasses, feather earrings, a bicycle necklace and some wooden bracelets. She eventually just left the house, jumped into her car and drove to Openhouse before she could change again.
It was quarter past twelve now and Lara was sitting with her skinny vanilla latté waiting for Mark to arrive. What if he thought she’d meant tomorrow?
word count 318
tag mark <3
outfit lookin fly like a g6.
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 28, 2011 20:23:56 GMT
It was a peculiar thing for Mark Thompson to admit, but there were a lot of things he missed about being in young offenders. Like not having to worry about where he was getting the money for his rent, not having to deal with idiots on public transport, and probably the thing he missed the most, not having a wake up call every morning. He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and having to wake himself up just made it all the more worse. A faint buzzing and then sudden blast of music had woken him with a startle, and it turned out to be Lara inviting him for a coffee. It took him a minute or two to realise a) who she was and b) how the fuck she had his number. When he caught in he replied with 'ok' and then lay back down in bed. He had intended at this point to get up and get ready to go visit his probation officer. This, of course, didn't happen, and Mark fell asleep again.
By the time he woke up next he discovered there was ten minutes until he had his meeting and still exhausted. He jumped out of bed and quickly pulled on the closest clothing he could find to his bed. A quick pit stop to the bathroom and then he was out the door with his messenger bag. Mark sprinted through the estate and was just in time to catch the bus as it drove past the local Lidl. It was lucky for him that he knew the bus driver, or he'd probably be sitting weeping at the side of the road. He got to Bangor sooner than expected, and found his probation officer Janet to be in good spirits and not angry with him about being late. Their meeting went well and soon he was back up at the bus station, getting ready to go meet Lara. He looked at his phone and checked the time; it was coming up to noon. He bought a pack of cigarettes from the bus and had a quick smoke as he waited for his next bus to arrive.
Mark was oncemore on the road within a few minutes and slouched down in his seat. He contemplated having a nap on the trip to Wardenstown, but figured that would just put him in a bad mood for meeting Lara. It was times like these he wished he could afford to learn to drive. He had driven about the estate when he was younger, but didn't have the oppurtunity to learn properly yet, and could barely scrimp the money for his provisional license. He eventually arrived at the next bus station and hopped off the bus, making the quick walk over to Openhouse. He checked the time before he walked in and saw it was twenty past. He'd probably have a shit storm when he walked in, but he couldn't bring himself to care by this point. He walked in to the coffee shop and saw Lara sitting on her own. He gave her a quick semi-smile before going to order a black coffee. His drink was quickly prepared and he took it over to sit across from Lara. "Hi," Mark greeted, taking a sip of his drink. He pulled a face at the mug and then grabbed a couple of sachets of sugar, dumping them into his coffee.
word count 571
outfit heeerrreeeee
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 28, 2011 22:15:54 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] Lara’s heart was pounding at a hundred miles an hour whenever Mark strolled into Openhouse and barely acknowledged her with only a semi-smile that she would have missed in the blink of an eye when he saw her. She couldn’t believe how silly she was – she loved that he didn’t care about her and he was just so nonchalant about the whole event. She had to try extremely hard not to grin like an idiot right back at him and she merely nodded her head slightly in an attempt to be as cool as him.
“Hi.” He practically muttered at her. Almost spat. It was so insincere, maybe? She watched his strong hands rip open the packets of sugar and bit her lip slightly. He made it look like nothing. She supposed it was nothing. Oh God, how long had she been silent? “What’s up?” She said with a small smile and then took a sip of her latté and tossed her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly. Her biggest fear at that present moment of time was that he’d ask why she’d asked to meet up. What could she say? I like you? No. That was the worst thing she could say. There was no way. At all.
Every time she went to say something she’d take a drink of her coffee instead. She wanted to appear comfortable with the silence, just the way he seemed to be comfortable with it. There was only ever silence in her house when her father was writing. And even then, he usually muttered to himself and played music. So that wasn’t really silence, was it? No. Not really. What should she say? She coughed on her drink, spluttered almost, “Shit. It’s hot.” She told him, banging her chest with her fist and trying to compose herself while she knew she was turning bright red. It wasn’t hot. She just couldn’t drink like a human being.
word count 322
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 28, 2011 22:37:56 GMT
It occurred to Mark after a minute or two that he was still wearing his cheap, fake Ray Bans. Even for him it was an unheard of level of pretentiousness to wear sunglasses indoors. He took them off and slipped them into his messenger bag, before taking that off to set it on the floor beside him. He was glad to have a small amount of coffee in his system. It was making the whole 'being awake and out somewhere' thing a whole lot easier to bear, even if he was still curious as to why his presence had been requested to the coffee shop on this particular day.
'What's up?' Lara asked. Mark would have been lying if he had of said it hadn't taken him by surprise. He was sure he had jumped a little, but hoped it wasn't noticable. "Not much, you?" he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. Although Mark was generally a talkative fella, there was something about people from the Warehouse that caused him to become quieter. Maybe he was just scared something would get back to Janet. On that thought, he figured he'd try and contribute to the conversation by apologising for being late. "Sorry I was late," he began flatly, "I had a probation meeting to go to."
Mark took another drink of his coffee and decided to add another packet of sugar. He wasn't particularly fond of sweet coffee usually, but today he was taking any form of energy he could come across. As the silence went on between himself and Lara he started to go off on his own little tangent of thoughts, like had he remembered to lock the front door. He normally did. It wasn't as if he had anything to worry about if it was unlocked; his surrounding neighbours were nosy enough to notice if he was being robbed. He came out of his thoughts when Lara swore about her drink being hot. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at his companion, "Yeah, that's generally the point of hot drinks..."
word count 343
outfit heeerrreeeee
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 28, 2011 22:58:50 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] Lara chose deliberately to ignore the returned question of “what’s up” choosing instead to pretend that it was meant as a rhetorical greeting rather than an actual question to respond to. Her heart was beating like crazy and there were all kinds of butterflies flapping around in her stomach. She was flattered that he returned the question – that he at least pretended to care. Did this mean he liked her? Oh God, she was as ridiculous as a thirteen-year-old girl. Why were these sorts of interactions so much easier when she was under the influence?!
“Sorry I was late,” he stated, “I had a probation meeting to go to.” It really shouldn’t have, but Lara almost swooned at the notion of this. She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders in an attempt at feigned nonchalance. “We’ve all got things we gotta do.” She told him, shrugging again and then smiling at him slightly, a small smile, a cautious smile. Was smiling the way to go? Should she frown instead? Should she really be attempting to change herself to adapt to him? No. She was her own person.
Lara had not factored in that it could be awkward between them, yet it was somehow. She was struggling to find anything to say that she thought might interest him in the slightest. He commented sarcastically on his exclamation regarding her drink and her cheeks burnt bright red. She tried to shrug it off while she searched desperately for something to talk about. “That’s an interesting tattoo.” She said, referencing his tattoo displayed on his delicate underarm and then immediately wishing she hadn’t. It was a paramilitary tattoo. A symbol of a life he was trying to leave behind.
word count 287
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 28, 2011 23:38:30 GMT
It surprised Mark a little bit that she didn't make some negative reaction when he said about his probation meeting. He didn't mention the fact that he went to them or that they were on a weekly basis for reaction, it just so happened that when they were mentioned he would get a tut, frown or something like that. It was quite refreshing to hear a reaction like Lara's, not that he would express such joy. Instead he just gave his quick semi-smile again and said 'yeah' in little more than a mutter.
Mark was confused as to what Lara was talking about for a second when she mentioned a tattoo, and then looked down at his inner arm and sighed. He had worked hard on forgetting the tattoo was there, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to even seriously contemplate getting rid of it. Plus he was worried that covering it in anything other than clothing would get him thrown out of the estate. "Yeah, it draws a bit of attention. Just a shame that the attention isn't for good reasons." He took another drink of his coffee and gave his arm another look. "Valuable life lesson; don't get a UDA tattoo in a prominent place." Mark wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to share with her that lesson.
Although he was sure the majority of it was down to him not really having much to say to Lara, now that Mark had some caffeine in him it was starting to bug him a little that they were just sitting there making basic small talk. If he had wanted to drink coffee and make small talk he could have gone to his mothers house and saved himself the bus fare to Ards. "So. Lara. How come you wanted to hang out today?" That was a genuine question; no one at the Warehouse had asked him to hang out in a situation that wasn't a group of people going for a drink, so he was slightly taken aback now that this little blonde thing was getting a coffee with him.
word count 352
outfit heeerrreeeee
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 28, 2011 23:52:25 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overbored and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] His smile warmed her heart and she genuinely could have basked in the warmth radiating out of her chest for hours if she didn’t think it would creep Mark out. Lara couldn’t understand the hold that this delinquent had upon her. He wasn’t even smiling at her, really, he was only half smiling, almost smirking. She was reading into every smile as if it were a love-letter and it was sort of making her hate herself.
Lara wanted to die when she realised that Mark obviously didn’t want to talk about his tattoo – she’d always thought that body modification would be a good place to start learning things about people. She supposed she had learnt something: he was trying to forget his old life and regretted some of his decisions. “I’d like a tattoo someday.” She commented unhelpfully and tried to emulate his half-smile in return to him. She ran her hand through the bottom of her wavy white-blonde hair and then took a quick sip of her coffee. She needed a new topic of conversation. Fast.
Then he brought it up – the dreaded topic of conversation. “How come you wanted to hang out today?” Pretty much anything she would say would make her sound like a stalker of some sort. What should she say? It was decision time for Lara MacNabb. She looked out the window at the street and thought ‘what the hell.’ “I’d like to get to know you.” She replied with a shrug, then arched an eyebrow at him and turned her head to the side in a slightly coy way, “What did you think?”
Finally. Lara MacNabb had found herself again. She despised nervous, uncertain Lara. She liked Lara who was able to take risks and just say things. She stroked her hair and then looked him right in the eyes and bit her lip to suppress a growing smile. She needed to keep the budding confidence under control in order to be sure that she didn’t come across as immature or something. She hated teenage girls who tried to be cool by flirting with older men.
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 29, 2011 16:03:04 GMT
It took a lot of effort, but Mark managed to not reply sarcastically to Lara wanting a tattoo. He didn't know what had gotten into him; he was normally a bit of a dick but never that bad. Maybe it was the exhaustion kicking in even more for him. Instead he just gave a small nod, "You should. They're cool to have. Sometimes..." He felt the need to fix the end of this sentence considering that he had just expressed regret at his wrist tattoo. The other tattoos he had were loved though, he had that at least.
Mark dramatically looked from side to side and then leant in to the table with wide eyes. "Well, I thought that maybe you were just being used as bait for a trap and I was going to be walking into a punishment beating." He leaned back in his seat and took another drink of his coffee. He was fairly certain that Lara would catch on he was just taking the piss again. If she didn't then Mark feared for her ability to survive. Considering how long it had taken him to catch on who she was that morning he couldn't fathom a serious reason about why she wanted to hang out with him.
Sarcastic answer out of the way, Mark decided to deal with her reply to his initial question. She wanted to get to know him. God help her is he was the type of guy she found interesting. "Well Lara, I'm flattered you want to get to know me," sarcastic laced his tone as he said that part of his response, "But the only thing that you need to know about me, if you honest to god think it'll make you happier in life, is that I live in Ballybeen and was in young offenders." Okay, so maybe his tone had been a little more harsh than he had originally intended, but it bugged Mark that Lara thought that she could come along, flash a smile and Mark would automatically bare his soul. He knew better than to trust people and 'let them in'. He glanced up at Lara and noticed she was staring at him, playing with her hair in what he presumed was meant to be a flirtatious way, so he looked at the table and drank some of his coffee.
word count 391
outfit heeerrreeeee
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 29, 2011 17:06:04 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] Lara couldn’t even suppress the grin that bubbled on her face when he agreed that she should get a tattoo. Every person that she knew told that he wanted to get a tattoo had all scoffed and replied, “You?!” They thought it was hilarious that she should think so. “I wouldn’t know what to get.” She admitted and she shrugged her shoulders slightly, “Or where to get it.” She added and smiled slightly. That had always been one of the main issues for her – where would she put her tattoo that no one could see it if she had a respectable job?
She couldn’t help herself, Lara leant in close to him when he leant towards her and uttered words that she could hardly comprehend for a couple of seconds, “Oh!” She laughed out loud, and then grinned at him, “That’s coming after the coffee.” She smirked and leant back slightly, as he moved away for her. She laughed at him again and then looked over his shoulder at the street as if she were looking for the guys who were going to beat up her companion.
His sarcasm caught her off guard slightly, she expected that he would be more flirtatious or something. Lara frowned ever so slightly at him and then laughed, “You think that defines you?” She demanded slightly more aggressively than she had intended. She leaned back in her chair; he hands on her latté as she arched an eyebrow at his expressionless face as he studied his coffee. She wanted to say something a bit more confrontational than that but she didn’t. “Why are you even here if you didn’t want to talk to someone?” She asked, she didn’t mean to be so belligerent towards him. She looked at him and waited for his response.
word count 300
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 29, 2011 17:44:31 GMT
Mark pulled a dramatically thoughtful face for a moment about Lara's tattoo. "You should get a cat. On your neck. Look like an anti-badass but badass at the same time." He let himself give out a small laugh at his own joke that ended abruptly a couple of seconds after it started. "Oh excellent!" Mark exclaimed when Lara told him the beating was coming, "I'd hate to be disappointed. And it's been so long since I was part of a beating." Maybe that was a bit of an overshare. He was fairly certain that Lara didn't know about his position in the paramilitaries or what exactly he had went to young offenders for, so that may have just given away something he wasn't comfortable sharing with people. "I hope I get bundled into a white van. That always adds a touch of excitement to the whole affair, don't you think?" She probably didn't, and Mark had probably just made himself out to be a total psychopath. That was always a fun impression for a youth worker to give off.
"Of course it defines me." He replied flatly. "I'm always going to be judged for it when people find out, so I'll forever more be the guy who was put away for four years." Mark wasn't usually so pessimistic, and did hope that when his probation was over he could move on, but really it was always going to affect his life when people found out. Part of Mark was tempted just to get up and go when Lara asked why he was even there. It was a good point; he didn't really want to be, so why didn't he just leave? "It's nice to get out of the flat and have company sometimes." Even if he was being snappy with her. "And I enjoy the coffee they sell here better than the Lidl value shite I keep at the house." He raised his coffee mug in a 'cheers' motion and took another drink. "Anyway, what has made you interested in getting to know me specifically?" Mark had noticed the type of people she hung around with and befriended at the Warehouse, and it didn't take a genius to realise he was nothing like them.
word count 373
outfit heeerrreeeee
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 30, 2011 17:09:54 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] Lara laughed slightly when Mark spoke to her about a cat tattoo and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She leant forward slightly and tried to catch his eye and smiled at him, “A silhouette of a cat or a portrait?” She asked him, playing along with this idea. She laughed again and pulled her hair over her shoulder again. She never knew where she wanted her hair. She chuckled at his feigned excitement of the fictional punishment beating and nodded her head enthusiastically, “I feel the van is part of the drama.” She informed him pretending that she was deadly serious, “After all, you’re not worth a damn if you don’t get a van.” She shrugged and then giggled slightly at her newly coined epigram.
She leant back in her seat again when he indignantly replied that his criminal record defined him. “Why do we let the past define us?” She demanded, “All that matters is the present!” She cried and then stared at him for a couple of seconds. She knew that he was going to have a very different perspective on what she was saying. He was the victim of prejudice. Lara couldn’t help but feel ever so slightly hurt by the fact he said that he wanted to just get out of the house. At the same time, she knew that he was being honest and she liked that. “Their coffee is phenomenal.” She agreed with a grin, choosing not to be hurt by what he said. He asked why she wanted to get to know him and she cocked her head to the side and wondered what she was going to say to him. She couldn’t say that she fancied him. “You’re different from all of the other people there.” She told him honestly. She glanced over his shoulder at the street and then smiled at him slightly. She had a feeling he might take this the wrong way or say something snappy. She felt like that was part of the fun.
word count 337
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 30, 2011 21:41:55 GMT
"Pfft, well obviously a portrait. Having just a silhouette would be like getting a car by having no wheels or seats." He wasn't sure how that analogy worked, but it was said so Mark figured he had to role with it regardless. English had never been his strongest subject anyway. When Lara flipped her hair again after asking her question, Mark couldn't help but snap, "Jesus woman, leave your hair be. It looks fine!" He didn't know why it had irritated him that she flicked it about so much, maybe the caffeine was giving him a mood swing. "Of course; without a van the whole thing just seems so amateur." Then he frowned, "Although there is the downside that any witnesses to the initial kidnapping can get the number plate. How do you plan to tackle this, big bad Lara?"
Mark was tempted to argue back that the issues of human nature and the instinct to judge meant that his past was always going to be his most defining feature, but he instead decided to drop it for the sake of ease. "Well aren't you just the little optimist," he smirked as she declared the present was all that mattered. "If that's your logic, you're now going to be defined as the girl with the moustache on her finger in my head. Congratulations." He meant it to be fairly sardonic, but from what he could gather of Lara she would probably take it as a roundabout compliment. He gave a small nod when she agreed that Openhouse has great coffee. Then Mark looked into his mug and wondered if he should think about getting another cup; he was draining it at a quicker rate than he was accustomed to, a downside of not having a cigarette or something to play with and keep his attention. He raised an eyebrow at her comment that he was different. He hadn't expected her to be quite so blunt. As per, sarcasm was the way forward in his response. "Well shit. Looks like the whole 'trying to fit back into normal society' think hasn't been working well if I'm different." Mark frowned for a moment and then gave a sigh, "Guess I'll have to go live in the mountains now."
word count 375
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 31, 2011 15:31:29 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] Lara couldn’t help but smirk slightly when he suggested that getting a silhouette would be similar to getting a useless car. She loved that he was so passionate about it. “Are portraits not more painful because they’re more detailed?” She wondered aloud and looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, as if she was wondering whether or not he was attempting to inflict pain on her. She sat back slightly and couldn’t stop her eyes from growing wide with shock whenever he shouted at her about her hair. He said it looked fine and Lara couldn’t help but take this as a compliment. He had noticed her hair and liked it. Surely this was a good thing? “Why? Does it bother you?” She smirked and flicked her hair over her shoulders twice in a flirtatious attempt to irritate him.
A sip of her latté Lara smiled slyly and leant towards Mark as he voiced his perceived problem about witnesses. She loved talking about this sort of thing with him because it made her more and more aware that his criminal activities of the past were real and not just rumoured. It was part of his allure, after all, his bad reputation. “Do you take me for an amateur?” She scoffed, in the sort of way that Detective Applegate did when he was undercover in a gang, “I’ve got old plates from the dump that are attached to the car so they won’t trace back to us.” She shrugged her shoulder and sat back defiantly, her wrists rested on the table and the fingers of her left hand absent-mindedly stroked the bottom of her glass latté mug.
Lara’s smile widened when Mark made the comment that she was going to be forever known as the girl with the moustache on her finger to him. It meant that he’d been looking at her outfit, her accessories, taking in little aspects of her appearance and cherishing them. “And you will forever be the pretentious dick who wore sunglasses inside.” She said with a smirk and then took a sip of her latté which was nearly finished. He seemed annoyed that she was interested in him because he was different and though he tried to disguise his real discomfort with sarcasm she had a feeling, because of his frown, that he was saddened by this information. She laughed at his plan to move into the mountains and leant towards him a little. “What? The Mourne Mountains?” She scoffed, “You’d be found in a day!” She giggled and rolled her eyes at his apparent silliness at not realising how pointless his plan was for hiding.
word count four hundred and forty
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Post by mark jackson on Mar 31, 2011 16:00:58 GMT
"You're going to have to deal with the pain of detail or the pain of colouring in. Six of one really. Don't be a ginny-ann and just get the portrait." Mark presumed it was much the same anyway. He only had four tattoos and all of them had been done by a friend when he was a bit pissed. He'd have to remember and try to be sober the next time he got a tattoo so he could give a genuine opinion of the pain that everyone was so scared of. He glared at Lara when she flicked her hair twice again after asking if it bothered him. "Oh no, I just like to snap at people to not do think when in actual fact it makes my fuckin' day," Mark snapped. "Yes. It bothers me. I'll seriously cut it off if you don't stop." He worried himself slightly with that line, wondering if it was the type of thing his anger management had been trying to prevent and he'd just unraveled all of that work.
"Well of course I do!" Mark exclaimed incredulously. Her plan with the old number plates had just proved her amateur abilities in the world of punishment beatings. "It's moronic to steal number plates. You're just asking for trouble. One scan by a meatwagon at the side of the road and the police will be on your tail for plates not registered to the vehicle. And if you even suggest not driving long enough a distance away to get the checks then again moronic; too close for comfort and you'll be caught. And if you're not caught they'll find out it was you. Either way you're fucked with stolen plates. What's your next plan?" Mark didn't like how much of his knowledge on the affair he was giving away, especially to someone he barely knew. There was something oddly nice about being a source of knowledge though.
It unnerved Mark when Lara's grin got bigger. He had thought her smile was big enough, but apparently not. If she got any happier she'd probably give herself a Glasgow grin by accident. He was also unnerved about why she was smiling so much. Was she mocking him? Or was she genuinely pleased to be in his presence? The latter was not something he was used to in his young life. "Now see, there always has to be one person that takes it too far and resorts to name calling. I'm appalled, Lara," he feigned hurt at her calling him a pretentious dick, then stage whispered 'bitch' and took a drink of coffee. "Of course the Mourne Mountains." He replied, imitating how she stressed the name of the mountains. "There's not many other places I can go without a passport. Unless you suggest that I try it and get arrested again for breaking probation, landing myself in prison. In which case, you're a cock."
word count 484
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Post by lara macnabb on Mar 31, 2011 16:20:07 GMT
.•° it's fun to lose and to pretend she's overboard and self-assured [/b] [/size][/center] Lara looked at him with a slight arch in her eyebrow. She didn’t know whether she’d rather have something small to start with, a line drawing almost. She smiled at him a little bit and then looked away, “Fine.” She shrugged and smiled slightly. She didn’t know what she wanted to do about all of this. Mark’s anger was rather sudden whenever she was irritating him in what she had thought was a flirtatious manner, “I think you do like snapping at people, you enjoy the reaction.” She theorised and then sat back in her seat further and glared at him. Why had he been so melodramatic about this? It was a habit, an annoying habit, but it was harmless.
Lara folded her arms across her chest and listened quietly as he aggressively told her what was wrong with her plan to steal licence plates and giving reasons why it wouldn’t work. She couldn’t believe how much he knew about all of these things. It made it all the more real, and all the more attractive. “Good old fashioned, dump the van somewhere plan.” She said with a small shrug. She couldn’t believe that she was attempting to work out how to get away with picking someone up in a white van for a punishment beating. She had a newfound respect for criminals all over the country.
A short laugh escaped her lips when he pretended to be hurt by what she said. He was so ridiculous sometimes and his mood swings almost alarmed her. She leant forward slightly and drained her coffee. “Those mountains are just glorified hills.” She said wisely and shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t see why you have to leave anyhow, it’s not that big a deal. I only notice that you’re different because I know there is something to notice.” She rolled her eyes slightly and rubbed the base of her glass coffee cup and then looked up at him and smiled a little bit, then she stopped smiling, became rather serene and then frowned.
word count three forty
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