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2016-01-24 07:21 am (UTC)
What. What. What.
Invasion of personal space is usually a scare tactic, paired with lowered voice. It feels a little staged, though that could be shock--I'd always put the bad actors on when I needed the scene to feel out of focus. Glass eye? Lazy eye? Something. Exceptionally alternative presentation. Definitely staged. Not fake, necessarily, but staged all the same. The girls in the hall were hers.
"Y--y-yes ma'am. Um." I turn glance at my computer as I open a new livejournal post. That should do. Right? I can always cross-post later.
I skip the title for a moment, shakily write out, "Armed break-in at Bigelow offices," then swallow, looking down. "Uh." I title it, "Eva Blue Is Pointing a Gun at Me", then hit post.
Shit. Shitshitshit. Should've asked. "Uh." I'm shaking badly enough that my hand is clicking lightly on the keyboard. I could say I have a family?--but she wants attention, mother of two is a good dramatic article. I shut my mouth.
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daemon @ LJ
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