John is pretty sure this qualifies as one of the worst morning after.
How could it not? Here, let him read his list out:
- A sneak morning attack from hell-bound zombies? Check.
- Having to fight bare assed with only his zippo and wits as weapon? Check.
- Outnumbered 10 to 1 and ultimately had to resort to brute force? Check.
- Finding out that he slept with an ass-kicking monster hunter and had been use as a bait? CHECK, DAMMIT.
So yeah, John is bloody pissed at the orange-haired dame for tricking him like that, but he can’t deny that last night was one of the best shag he had in the past…few months. And he had to begrudgingly admit how efficient (and ruthless, and downright gorgeous) she is in a fight, or how beautiful and bold she was last night when she approached him in the bar. Nor can he deny his growing attraction towards her that he nurtured ever since he noticed how easy it was to be with her. He’s also certain that the molten-like feeling in his gut have nothing to do with the misshapen zombies he just fought.
“Where are you going?” he asks, suddenly aware that she’s all dressed up (while he’s still in his birthday suit, no less) and is halfway to the door.
He can’t help but to asks, “Just like that?” with a wounded pride, and she merely raised an eyebrow. She’s unimpressed, and he should’ve seen that coming because after all, wasn’t it her cool demeanor that got him so strung up last night? Of fucking course she would just leave and most likely disappear. She’s far too good for him anyway.
Yet, to his surprise, she reach to her coat pocket and flick something towards him. A card, he realises, with a neatly written number on it.
It took him a few seconds to realise it’s her number.
And then another minute before he fully come back to his senses and sees that he’s alone because she had vanished.
Well, just his luck. But at least he got her number.
He’ll make sure to call.
À la mort,
Prompt: The Killer’s Mr. Brightside
“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?”