[ With her arm free and her bag no longer enduring some sweaty, drunken dude's hand pawing through it, it's easy enough to pull out her keys, unlock the passenger's side door, toss her bag down on the seat behind her, and tuck herself safely into the little alcove created by the car and the open door. Chin resting over top, she loops her arm through the opening of the perpetually-half-down window and looks almost relaxed. It's easy to step into this — some sort of unpracticed, instantly-learned choreography between her and Frank.
It might become clear that she isn't a stranger to witnessing petty crime, whatever that means. ]
Look, dumbasses, last chance. Get in. Backseat only, but I won't kick you out if you blow chunks. Meter's running.
[ Drunk #3, still eyeing Frank like he thinks he might be able to take this guy, the unearned confidence seeping through very pore along with beer-tinged sweat, treats her to a charming epithet of fiercely muttered— bitch.
Sighing, her body language seems to slump into the open car door. She wants to leave... but the idea of leaving these guys alone with Frank twists her stomach into knots. ]
no subject
It might become clear that she isn't a stranger to witnessing petty crime, whatever that means. ]
Look, dumbasses, last chance. Get in. Backseat only, but I won't kick you out if you blow chunks. Meter's running.
[ Drunk #3, still eyeing Frank like he thinks he might be able to take this guy, the unearned confidence seeping through very pore along with beer-tinged sweat, treats her to a charming epithet of fiercely muttered— bitch.
Sighing, her body language seems to slump into the open car door. She wants to leave... but the idea of leaving these guys alone with Frank twists her stomach into knots. ]