ic inbox; entranceway

[postictal]

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text; meet me in the parking lot if u want an ass kicking

[postictal]

[He can't exactly trust that Jay's telling the truth. Just want to talk, he said, until he burst in with a knife and a set of zipties. The very same knife Tim jabbed into the flesh of another man's throat, unresisting, straining against the fingers that squeezed the breath from his lungs.

He's not changed his policy as far as weapons goes. He can't trust himself with those sorts of things.

As if he could refuse Jay anything after -

After everything else.]

fine.
i'll be there in five.

[Just, you know. Follow the smoke.]