The Face
“Now then, Mardy Bum…”
She didn’t respond, it was going to be one of those conversations.
“I’m in trouble again aren’t I?” Still nothing.
She continued to purposefully stare away from him, the cigarette smoke serving to emphasise each exasperated sigh that escaped from her crimson lips.
“I thought as much…”
Not so much as a flicker, wow he was going to have to work hard for this one!
“… Yeah, I’m sorry I was late,”
“LATE?!” She echoed angrily, at least it was a response.
“Well, I missed the train and then the traffic was a state…”
“Do you even realise how much planning went into tonight?” As her voice shook with barely contained rage, he began to wonder if he was better off with the silent treatment, “Or is it that you don’t care?”
“Well of course I do…” He replied, desperately trying to placate her, “Yeah, I clearly do!”
She sighed and snuffed out her cigarette before placing her hands on her hips,
“So I’ve spent weeks watching this place, mapping guards’ patrols, finding out what’s stored where by flirting with that god-awful excuse for a human being that manages the place, negotiating with scumbags who’re willing to fence whatever we can grab (scumbags who’re all going to come looking for us now by the way), finding entry and exit points and planning our get away. All to watch it all fall apart because you can’t even catch a train.” She took another deep angry breath, “And now you come in asking if… If you’re in trouble. I have to ask, How can you tell? I suppose it’s because I’m literally shaking with rage and can barely look at you?”
“… And you’ve got the face on.”
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