Hot-Headed Hypocrite

[Mercedes Allen]

Tag: Moki Jackson

    That ignorant little brat! I can't believe she just said that. About Shakespeare of all people! The idiocy! And then she just had to give me that stupid little smile of hers like 'I' was the dumb one. "The nerve!" Mercedes huffed under her breath as she slung the door to the library open and stormed out. You could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears, her face almost as red as her hair. She shouldn't have even interfered in the first place, but when somebody is dissing her favorite author of all time she has to say something. "I should've punched her pretty little face into the ground. That way getting banned would've been worth it," she growled as she rounded the corner of the library, not really caring about where she was going, just that she was moving. A two week ban from the library. Two weeks! The little preteen who Mercedes was arguing with didn't even get a slap on the wrist because her aunt makes large donations to the library. Mercedes huffed once more and turned the corner to the back of the library immediately hitting a hard object and bouncing back a bit. She squealed in surprise, loosing her balance and wobbling back a few steps before regaining it again.

[Moki Jackson]

Yeah, they could enforce the law out here, but it wasn't worth police resources to sweat it over the little things. They could easily make Kalispell into a place where smoking dope was a massive fucking deal - the crime in this state sure matched it. But Kalispell was a city of mutants, and it didn't pay for the cops to sweat the little things. Every so often, a mutant would snap and kill somebody, and that mutant would be desperate, dangerous, all the wrong kinds of tough and not to be fucked with. The police here were area-51 levels of equipped to deal with serious mutant threats, but it cost money to deploy that shit.

So, Moki was smoking weed down a back-alley, just after his shift was over. The lazy winter sun contemplated setting, giving a dubious kind of light to the actually pretty clean backbay, while Moki let the high of the dreaded Mariguana overtake him. What a sin he was committing, truly. Sat atop his dumpster, he was like a lord of sin, come to unmake all the precious western values of the god-fearing inhabitants of Montana.

Fuck, he hated snow. But at least it was passingly quiet here. That was, until some kid rounded the corner and headbutted his dumpster like it'd done something to her. He hopped down, suppressing laughter at the slapstick scene of some cute little redheaded kid's eyes twirling cartoonishly from a date-gone-bad with solid steel, and quickly steadied her where she stood. "Hey," he said, voice sharp but full of smiles, and held up a hand. "You okay? How many fingers d'you see?"

[Mercedes Allen]

    It took her a second to realize that somebody was with her, the throbbing in her head distracting her from pretty much everything else, but once she did internally she groaned. Great. Not only did she run into a dumpster, but she had an audience to witness her idiocy as well. Mercedes brought a hand to her head, her eyebrows creased in pain. She blinked looking at his fingers with a flat expression before giving him an incredulous look. "I'm fine."