Tropes of the Trade: Muddled Bitters

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

“Don't be so sure of yourself. You killed a man and blew up a building, you did not kill F.A.C.E. Honestly, you did as much as you could have. Impressive work for a pair spies."

Jacqueline felt the familiar punch to the stomach that happened every time she thought about her former partner. She had drank to his memory for forty-one days. Poor Ezra.

"By it's nature F.A.C.E. can't be killed. That's the difference between a man and an organization.” The blond looked at her directly and two details struck Jacqueline. The eyes that caught hers were a soft blue, the same color as the Hypnotiq bottle behind the bar; eyes that she could fall into. Under the left one a small plus shaped scar hung on her cheek like a faded Christmas ornament.

Jacqueline shifted in her seat, not tense but ready, and waited..

“I'm not here to fight you. I never choose to involve myself in battles that I can't win. My specialty lies in other areas.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I thought it was obvious, I'm here to offer you a mission.”

Comments (1 so far!)

Average reader rating 5.00/5

PJ Returned

PJ Returned

Squeeee! Well it's already passed the Bechdel test and it has drama, suspense, and I want more. Like, now. Hurry up Mr. Quick.

  • #2175 Posted 2 years ago
  • 0
  • 5 out of 5

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