[He may be young, but something about this kid is insightful. Honest. He doesn't run anything through the protective filters of bullshit that most people use to get by. He says what he means, and that's so rare that it takes a while to get used to.
Blake looks down at the ground as Ishimaru talks. He thinks about a guy on the floor, arm stretched up awkwardly to the cuff on the bar on the table. Drug runner. Eyes closed, breathing in little quiet pants, red trickle at the corner of his mouth. A satisfying ache in your knuckles meant you were getting somewhere.
In the end he'd gotten the names.
The worst part about what the kid says is that it makes sense.
Blake exhales roughly. The standard line is, Time to come clean.]
no subject
Blake looks down at the ground as Ishimaru talks. He thinks about a guy on the floor, arm stretched up awkwardly to the cuff on the bar on the table. Drug runner. Eyes closed, breathing in little quiet pants, red trickle at the corner of his mouth. A satisfying ache in your knuckles meant you were getting somewhere.
In the end he'd gotten the names.
The worst part about what the kid says is that it makes sense.
Blake exhales roughly. The standard line is, Time to come clean.]
I'm not a good guy, Ishimaru.