10-21-2013, 05:30 PM
Doggedly, Reed turned away from her reflection, and was more staring more at the threadbare rug on the floor than Trano's loafers, but soon the silence was screaming loud in her ears. Trano was far too talkative to stay quiet this long unless something was wrong. The guy had an endless motor.
Up the clean line of his clothes, she noticed a rather distressing look cross his face, like he were concentrating on some unrecalled memory, but there wasn't another moment to consider what had him so drawn. Something clamped down on her wrist and she was yanked to her feet.
Every muscle in her body tensed on instinct, but she was drawn as surely as if someone dragged her by the wrist across the room, until she was in arm's length of Trano. He was practically euphoric, like someone tasting their first shoot of heroin. In response to this violation of --- whatever, Reed's nostrils flared defiantly and she snaked a hand up under her skirt.
In a flash, a diminuitive .380 was in hand and pressed hard under Trano's jaw; not the best gun for a lot of reasons, but adequate for fitting beneath a woman's skirt. Since he was pinned by the dresser behind, and with Reed unable to retreat, she pressed into him, effectively pinning him herself, jaw clenched and eyes darting across his.
"Well that explains a thing or two. Unless you can do more than yank people around the room," she said sarcastically. Yet she didn't struggle to get away. Either because she didn't want to -- unlikely -- or she knew it was worthless to try. What she did know, however, was it was a lot harder to dodge a bullet when the barrel was pressed to one's throat.
That meant only one thing. Reed was already acclimated to the use of magic.
Up the clean line of his clothes, she noticed a rather distressing look cross his face, like he were concentrating on some unrecalled memory, but there wasn't another moment to consider what had him so drawn. Something clamped down on her wrist and she was yanked to her feet.
Every muscle in her body tensed on instinct, but she was drawn as surely as if someone dragged her by the wrist across the room, until she was in arm's length of Trano. He was practically euphoric, like someone tasting their first shoot of heroin. In response to this violation of --- whatever, Reed's nostrils flared defiantly and she snaked a hand up under her skirt.
In a flash, a diminuitive .380 was in hand and pressed hard under Trano's jaw; not the best gun for a lot of reasons, but adequate for fitting beneath a woman's skirt. Since he was pinned by the dresser behind, and with Reed unable to retreat, she pressed into him, effectively pinning him herself, jaw clenched and eyes darting across his.
"Well that explains a thing or two. Unless you can do more than yank people around the room," she said sarcastically. Yet she didn't struggle to get away. Either because she didn't want to -- unlikely -- or she knew it was worthless to try. What she did know, however, was it was a lot harder to dodge a bullet when the barrel was pressed to one's throat.
That meant only one thing. Reed was already acclimated to the use of magic.