“Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She forced her tense shoulders to relax, and she didn’t make the mistake of looking around. She planted a smile on her face and said through gritted teeth, “What—How—”
“I came to find our friend,” I said. “Do you want to get in a transit bubble?” […]
She hesitated, then forced her smile wider. It looked fake and angry, but it was the thought that counted. “Sure.”
-Exit Strategy
I stayed up WAY too late drawing the ads for this. Please appreciate that the new brand of soda on Palisade is apparently Sulfuric Acid, according to book facts that I just made up.
equal rights for women will never truly be achieved until we have more female noir detectives
and i don’t mean some badass woman who doesn’t need a man and can kill someone in 6 inch heels without breaking a sweat or smudging her perfectly set makeup or chipping a nail. she looks like she grew up in a soggy cardboard box on the side of the road all alone. she monologues dramatically to herself while looking over the corruption-riddled city she works in because she has no friends or hobbies and will literally do anything except go to therapy. she gets beat up in alleyways so blood and rain drip sexily from her nose and chin but when she gets to her feet she looks like a sad wet cat. women want her but they also pity her. instead of perfume she smells of coffee, whiskey and cigarettes, which are also more or less all she lives off of. her voice is more gravelly than a pit of rocks as a result of said diet. she hasn’t slept or showered in at least 3 days and it’s increasingly obvious. she’s either divorced or feels like she should be.
