Ripley shakes her head, sends an aggravated look toward the band in question. If Efrain were to decide to arrive late to this party, she'll hurl a few choice words his way, demon or not. At least if he killed her she'd have said it— and anyway, death's a twenty-four hour outfit. A perfect excuse to talk one's shit.
If only she'd stop crying. Crying really dampens the zest of an argument, doesn't it?
The gutted laugh demands her attention and soon she's stooped back down by Connie's side. "And when has that ever worked?" Ripley challenges. Scans the crowd once, twice, a third, becoming ever-more dizzied. Her head pounds. Incorporeal tendrils tangle around her and keep her floor-bound. "Fuck— a dozen townspeople who can do magic and su-suddenly no one's up to it? I don't—" A note whistles. She winces. "I don't suppose getting the fuck out of here is an option, either?"
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Ripley shakes her head, sends an aggravated look toward the band in question. If Efrain were to decide to arrive late to this party, she'll hurl a few choice words his way, demon or not. At least if he killed her she'd have said it— and anyway, death's a twenty-four hour outfit. A perfect excuse to talk one's shit.
If only she'd stop crying. Crying really dampens the zest of an argument, doesn't it?
The gutted laugh demands her attention and soon she's stooped back down by Connie's side. "And when has that ever worked?" Ripley challenges. Scans the crowd once, twice, a third, becoming ever-more dizzied. Her head pounds. Incorporeal tendrils tangle around her and keep her floor-bound. "Fuck— a dozen townspeople who can do magic and su-suddenly no one's up to it? I don't—" A note whistles. She winces. "I don't suppose getting the fuck out of here is an option, either?"