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"Don't touch me," he hissed, pushing her hand away. It was like nothing he'd just said had registered. He didn't want an apology from them - he wanted them to apologize to her, for being such gigantic screwups. Nobody deserved this. And what the Hell was that about having a kid?
"It's what a man leaves behind that counts."
He stood up rapidly, a vein pulsing on his forehead.
Flint slammed his fist down on the table, but it was halfhearted, pulled back at the last second to avoid shattering the furniture. What was it with these people? How did they exist? How selfish could you get?
"She deserves better than you. You let her endanger herself because you just couldn't tell her no. Is that it? That has to be what happened. That, or you turned a blind eye - or you're just idiots."
The last word came out as a vengeful snarl. He wanted to pick this man up by his collar and put him through a wall -
One deep breath later, he'd composed himself. Roughly speaking.
"Thank you for the coffee. Once again, your family is at risk. I suggest you take action. Goodbye, Sandersons."
He turned to leave, reaching into the collar of his Hawaiian shirt to remove his sunglasses. Slipping them on, he marched out the door towards his car. It was a 1970 black Chevy Nova, recently repaired.
Flint walked around the side, opening the car door.
He stepped inside, then looked over to the passenger, then out to the front, then back to the passenger.
"Yeah...went about as well as I expected it would."
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- Joined: Fri Jan 25, 2019 11:45 pm
"Mm." Came a soft response, knowing-- yet disappointed all the same.
Meshindi's eyes, sightless as they were, retained their vacant gaze out the rolled-down window of the Chevy to focus upon the residence of Kelly Sanderson. It was a name he'd heard once before; despite his disappearance from the world of vigilantes for the better part of what was approaching a year, he still retained an unshakable awareness of the environment around him. It complimented his blindness-- an appearance of severance, at first glance, yet unmistakable clarity all the same. He'd been called here by Flint-- a friend in need, at the moment, though the issue would soon be rectified with the prejudice their target was owed. He glanced back to Arno, each man's gaze hidden beneath the tinted veil of glass-- though, while Flint's choice was far more stylish, for the lack of a better word, Meshindi's pair of pitch-lens eyeglasses were far more minimalist and contained.
"There's nothing more to be done except to remain vigilant." He spoke eventually, letting his arm drape over the side of the door. "If they refuse to acknowledge the very real threat until it arrives at their very doorstep, then we will have to be there. Yes?"
He'd encountered the same problem with another teenaged girl-- their relationship, Meshindi thought, was most likely not unlike the connection Kelly and Arno shared. Begrudging contact, perhaps-- or maybe it was just the Spinebreaker's method of heroism that presented issues between him and the Southam family. It seemed that Joan had been far more receptive of his warning, however-- and while Francine no doubt disliked him, if not despised him, he could only hope that his actions prevented harm, at least for a short while.
Speaking of the subject--
"We have a bit to catch up on, don't we?"
Slowly, he resumed his stare out the window, lips curling into distaste.
"Tell me about the Stygian Moth."
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