open / MAKES FOR STORMY WEATHER

[SELENE ANGELA HANKS]

[bg=0f0f0f][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:0d0d0d; width: 300px; border-top:25px solid #725380; border-bottom:25px solid #725380; padding:0;] [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true] before the inmates decided to crash the party, sneaking off to light up a few joints to herself had never been that big of a deal. selene was usually gone and back before anyone even noticed that she had left. but now that things were messier, it was hard to even light up a normal cigarette without someone stuffing their nose into her business. suspicions were going around that she was in league with the inmates, but no one either had the balls to ask her directly, or knew the kind of answer the barrel of her gun would provide. so slipping off when it came to the small blond was now more of a chore than ever, with people of the town keeping more eyes out than normal, even if their attempts were useless. so she had used her ranger duties as a way out. normally a woman wouldn't be allowed out by herself from the circumstances of women disappearing and being violently or sexually assaulted, but selene was confident. if someone did happen to over power her and touch her in any way she didn't want, they'd get what was coming to them eventually; friends in high places, after all. the highway was usually a good place to go when she wanted to be alone, considering there were only so many people out to patrol, and the highway stretched quite a distance, something her beaten and bruised kawasaki ninja didn't have any difficulties with driving down. now, at about eleven thirty, give or take a few minutes, she found herself finally able to get a moment to herself. with her bike's kickstand easily keeping the two-wheel vehicle raised, she leaned against the seat to the side of the road, her legs crossed at the ankle. the woman's right hand raised from leaning against the center piece of her bike, pressing the joint's sloppy filter between her lips to inhale a drag. there wasn't a sound that reached her ears that she wasn't unfamiliar with; the wind, crickets, the sound of the burning cherry eating through the oil paper between her fingers... closing her eyes, she slowly exhaled the second hand, ignoring the bitter taste of the overly dry marijuana, choosing to focus on the tingling sensation it was starting to spring from her toes up, instead. minutes passed, and the joint got smaller and smaller with each haul she took off the end. she'd almost been ready to toss the roach and hop back on her bike when a pair of headlights started to stream into her view. at first, she didn't think anything, not a single bone in her body ashamed from the fact that she wasn't exactly carrying out her job, and enjoying what was once an illegal substance instead. but when the vehicle rolled to a stop a little too close for comfort, sel's instinct to shoot first and ask questions later tried to kick in. luckily for whoever was getting out of the vehicle, she kept her shotgun firmly in its holster on her back, only allowing the fingers on her free hand to toy with the idea of pulling her pocket knife out of her jeans. whether they were friendly enough for her would determine what kind of attitude she'd have against them- for once in her life, she was feeling a little too dull to verbally bite someone's head off right off the bat without motive.

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open ; 574 words ; outfit ; thanks in advance to whoever takes it ;D

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[KINGSLEY JAMES GRANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Kingsley Grant a friend with weed's a friend indeed a friend who share's is better. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Bitch work. That was what the inmates had said they would be giving him to do that day, and that's exactly what they made him do. By the time the torture he had to go through was over, Kingsley had opened at least ninety doors, been called at least a hundred insults, and had felt a massive craving for weed/food/water since the start of it. It was only a while 'till they asked him to bend over. Needless to say, the young man was glad to hear that one of is fellow ex-law keepers was going to take his place for a while. That left him with free time. These days, however, free time meant two things: plotting and inventing. And, on occasion, exploring so he'd be able to have something to plot and invent with. This happened to be one of those days when he needed to do exactly that: fine some materials. Right now he really needed some petroleum for his latest bomb. Great thing about the zombies: gas was free if you could scavenge it on your own. Technically, it was the Rangers who should've been doing the scavenging, but Kingsley both didn't trust them and needed to get some free time on his own occasionally. Especially after he was just made someone's bitch for the last five hours. He had his own vehicle, which was outside of town for safety reasons, and Kingsley had every intention of sneaking outside of town to help him travel around. Kingsley used the shadows and darkened night sky to help himself get outside of town with all his gear - gas can, provisions, and gun included. It was only moments before he started his old pick-up truck and made his way on to the highway. Minutes passed. Kingsley found himself missing the radio. Even one of the shitty stations that played Country music would have been better than the silence in which most everyone had to ride these days, if they rode at all. He sighed, breaking his chain of thought, and started to whistle as best as he could. And then he saw someone. And then he un-safety'd his gun and pulled up. It was a woman. She looked familar, and she didn't look like one of the walkers, but in this day and age, it paid to be catious. Stopping, though, could benefit him by either taking out another walker, or helping this lasse (which in turn could help him out later...). So he pulled up and stepped out. Instantly, he knew she wasn't undead, and she wasn't the possible damsel in distress that he had thought she might've been either. She had a hardened look, and Kingsley could tell that the motorcycle by her leg was hers. Not to mention that there was a cig in her hand that... wait, what was that smell? Kingsley recongnized it. That wasn't a cig.. that was something more... herbal. Something herbal that Kingsley hand't had a it of since New Orleans. She wasn't a walker, and she had some pot on her. Fuck getting supplies, he wanted some of that. She didn't greet him, and looked like she was cautious enough to shoot him, but with what she had in her hand, Kingsley doubted she'd do it, but if she did she'd probably miss. So, he said "Got some snacks if ya've got some more." He didn't know that bum-fucked places like Mater had any of the good stuff, and even if he did, his work and the Sheriff's Department kept him from having any. Seeing as things were the way they were, the way Kingsley figured it, he might as well get blazed. SELENE. 616. The quotes kinda ripping off yours so if you want it changed, I can do that. Also, this looks like it can be a fun thread.

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