β
β Yeah , don't bullshit me like that . β
Cross interrupts her last sentence with a crude remark, a blunt habit of his that doesn't beat around the bush ; halting on his steps to spot the butterfly resting in her palm .
That damn thing ... last he recalls ...
ππ΅ π’ππΈπ’πΊπ΄ π£π³πͺπ―π¨π΄ π΅π³π°πΆπ£ππ¦ .
+
β Yeah , don't bullshit me like that . β
Cross interrupts her last sentence with a crude remark, a blunt habit of his that doesn't beat around the bush ; halting on his steps to spot the butterfly resting in her palm .
That damn thing ... last he recalls ...
ππ΅ π’ππΈπ’πΊπ΄ π£π³πͺπ―π¨π΄ π΅π³π°πΆπ£ππ¦ .
+
Comments
He may lack the context behind it, but her appearance and the pressure were enough clues to paint that something was not πΏπΆπ΄π΅π. Something he's not looking to see escalate.
β You look like a body that crawled out of a ditch , an' that's puttin' it lightly. β
β What happened t' you ? β
β