"Ya mean yer gonna 'elp me kill some lad?" Crissy questioned, turning her head slightly to look at him. "Why? Why so keen on 'elpin' me?"

  "Oh t’ank ye so much. Is t’at righ’?" There was a slight rise of his brow before he practically shrugged it off. "Want some ‘elp?"

"Good ta know ya got a brain. I got someone I gotta get rid of."

  "I ain’ tha’ dense. Gathered it was fer a gun."

"Righ', t'at's why ya asked. If ya must know, it's fer a gun."

  "Well fine. Didn’ even want t’know anyways."

"T'at's fer me ta know."

  "Why t’e fuck woul’ ye only buy one bullet t’begin wit’, lass?"

      "Apparently it's suspicious to buy just one bullet. Got questioned by a damn cop."

   Crissy stopped at the door, turning around to face the man. Apprehend her? Who the hell did he think he was? With a slight scoff the Irish girl made her way forward so that she stood directly in front of him with an almost glare.

          "I 'ave ta do this. Ye don't get it! T'is man took t'e only t'ing t'at ever meant anythin' ta me. 'm no murder but I 'ave ta do t'is. 'm sorry."

    She looked on the verge of tears, her eyes pleading with the man in front of her.

        Ugh.

      Well this was ten shades of awful.

      Revealing his identity to a random girl off the street with a thick accent wasn’t exactly Connor’s idea of ‘laying low.’ On the other hand, letting her run of totting a gun to kill some random fella didn’t set well with his morals. The Irishman let bright eyes roll to the Heaven’s, a silent plea for strength, before he slammed his palm against the wood work to lean just slightly. There was a slight sting in his shoulder - pressure on a bullet that was probably still deep in his flesh. It would eventually work it’s way up. Or so he hoped.

     "One more step an’ I’ll be apprehendin’ ya, lass."

       "I got nothin' left. 'nd t'is man deserve ta die. If t'e saints won't do it, I will. Now, if ye'll excuse me." With a nod she turned towards the door.

            “Now I can’t in me right mind let a young lady run off wit’ a gun on the streets o’ Boston lookin’ ta murder. T’at wouldn’ be right o’ me.”

      "T'en I'll do it meself. I've got me dad's revolver. Just gotta find t'e guy."

            "Well maybe the lil ole Saints are busy with somethin’ else, girly."

      "Killin' t'e man t'at killed my father 'nd mother. I don't 'ave a choice since t'e saints aren't around."

            “‘Ey now, wait a minute. They ain’ exactly in the business o’ hospitality an’ so what exactly is a young lass like yourself gonna be doin’ in their line o’ work?”

       "Shame. Been lookin' fer t'em fer quite some time. 'ad a job but looks as t'ough I'll be doin' t'at meself. T'ank ya, sir."

           "The Saint’s o’ Boston? Ya mean those rancorous fucks who go ‘round killin’ men in the name o’ the Lord? Nay, lass. I ain’ heard high tale of them for awhile now."

+ shotofirish

      "'ey laddy. Ye 'eard of t'em Saints o' Boston? 'm lookin' fer 'em."

     "Could'cha be anymore stupid?"

          [ Rolling her eyes, the girl sat down beside him. Sure she didn't know the guy but he had an accent similar to that of her own which provided a sense of...comfort. ]

     "'nd how long is t'is supposed ta last, hmm?"

            ❝ M’on top of the fuckin’ world. ❞

                ( the only reason he hadn’t flinched when she got closer, despite the fact that he was all types of high, was the accent dispelling from her lips. reminded him of home; Ireland. )

           ❝ — take? I didn’t take anythin’, nothin’ at all.                           But I sure as hell smoked somethin’. A lot of somethin’, actually. ❞

      "Ya feelin' alright there, laddy?"

             [ She leaned forward slightly to examine his eyes and after seeing their condition leaned back again with a sigh. ]

       "What'cha take?"

            ❝ — pussies. Everyone. ❞

              ( he points a lazy finger, not at her, but in her general direction. his eyed are bloodshot and everything’s making him giggle. shit, Connor’s gonna be pissed. )

           ❝ S’like they just want ta get their asses beat. Fascinatin’. ❞

       "S'cuse me?"

               [ Crissy raised an eyebrow at the male, folding her arms across her chest. ]

           ❝ — everyone around here’s such a fuckin’ pussy, holy shite. ❞

               ( ignore him, he smoked a couple of blunts before this. )

Crissy was pulling her old hair over her ears, getting ready to walk out that door and hopefully find some source of money. However just as she left the booth a hand wrapped around her arm. She was about to punch whoever it was only to find it was the waitress who quickly muttered something off about the food. Confused, the teen gazed around the diner until both eyes landed on the gentlemen in the booth. Stomach growling, she vowed to go and say something after eating.

It wasn't minutes later that the teen sat at the counter with a big stack of pancakes and a pot of coffee. She scarfed them both down as if it had been the first time food passed her lips. After eating a second plate and downing another pot of coffee, she hopped up from the stool and scooted across the floor towards the booth. Reaching the booth, she offered a smile.

" 'ello." Crissy greeted, placing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "I just wanted ta say t'anks fer da food 'nd coffee. It's been awhile since I 'ad meself a proper meal." With the two men staring at her, she could feel her nerves starting to build and as to why she didn't know. What now? Oh! Introduce herself! Quickly, she offered a hand. "Crissy McNeary, nice ta meet'cha both."

She fell silent for a moment before talking again. "I gotta ask, why did ya buy me da food? I mean...people in dis world don't do much fer ot'ers anymore."

following the steps of saints | crissy&murphy

" 'm sorry, what? 'm not beautiful."

+ open

                  “Screw it.”

    Crissy found herself loading her father’s revolver, not quite sure if she was doing it right but following what they did in the movies. That stuff was accurate, right? She took a deep breath before tucking it into the deep pocket of her wool jacket then standing from her chair, moving to the door of the abandoned apartment and slipping into the alley. If no one would help her, she’d find the man and kill him herself.