Thrift Shop Threads

[notjustaface]

The jobs were sort of an accident, probably one Hannibal intended all along given it made life on the run all the more difficult. It certainly wasn't Face's first choice of ways to scratch together a little bit of cash.

And it was a little. A very depressing little.

Little enough that a cover ID requiring a decent suit under rack price - far under rack price.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he shakes his head - staring at the thrift store's hand-lettered sign. "Clothes come here to die."

Comments

[notthatcrazy]

She's a very nice little... bug-eyed otter thing.

"What'd ya have in mind?"

[notjustaface]

Now that... is a loaded question if there ever was one. It's been a while since they've been on better terms again - and then getting time alone that isn't delegated to any number of other things they have to get done took up most of it.

"There's about ten miles of woods between here and the shack - I'm sure we could find a place to roll around in the grass."

[notthatcrazy]

He laughs, playing with the otter's two-toned pink tail.

"Never figured you for the outdoorsy type."

They've spent plenty of time in the wilderness on missions, of course, but he'd never expected him to wanna do it by choice.

"Might be fun though."

[notjustaface]

"Might?" He quirks an eyebrow, offering a cocky grin. "I'll find a place..."