didntseeit: (safe in this frame)
He had shut the door, and she had stared after it. A long, long moment stretched out from now and until for ever before she had muttered a curse and ran over. Take a moment, compose yourself, and so she is leaning against the doorway, hands braced against the edge of the door.

He's walking away.

"Sands...how do you expect to pull this off?"
didntseeit: (better then thou)
the original letter:


I am not dead. Maybe you missed?

- AJ

I can prove it.

-- Mary Anne Bell
Queen of Swords
didntseeit: (paying attention)
It is cold outside. Scotland, she thought she had overheard someone say, Scotland and November and it is fucking freezing.

Or maybe she just has thin blood from being Mexican born and bred.

But outside is better then inside, fresh air and late afternoon sun instead of alcohol and smoke and that…that…window. So she donned her boots and her jeans and pulled on a thick sweater and headed outside with a bottle of tequila to find a quiet spot somewhere.

Guns on her hips, of course, and some knives hidden under her clothes because, well, even without that heads’ up about Sands, Ajedrez just feels plain naked without her weapons.

Naked, and vulnerable.
didntseeit: (Default)
Friday night after a long week and a big arrest (thanks in part to her, but does she get any credit?), and the boys have taken her out. A club, genuinely sleezy enough that the gringo tourists only hear about it if they have Mexican or ex-pat friends. They had gotten a table in a corner, and AJ the chair at the back. Her turn to mind the wallets, but it’s better then worrying that someone will steal the derringer in her jacket pocket (her jacket is draped over the back of the chair; there is no hiding anything under her blood-red backless top).

“It’s Mariachi Happy Hour! Get your Mariachi song for five pesos! A Mariachi kiss for twenty pesos! And a Mariachi fuck for only fifty pesos!”

The music is good, the green walls under the multi-coloured lights interesting, the girls in bikinis and sombreros on the stage that snakes out into the club the source of much attention.

Men, AJ thinks to herself, raising her glass up and then wincing as all the ice has melted.


didntseeit: (Default)

October 2007



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