[RP] I get by with a little help from my friends (locked to Ford)

[deep_red_bells]

True to her word, Baileigh put on the shiny red lipstick and the snug jeans and left her hair down, for no other reason than that Ford had requested--probably  jokingly--that she 'look hot' for their hunting outing. She felt a teeny bit silly, but what was the harm? Any good Grace would suffer a little silliness for her favorite Will.

After explaining to Hank and Cain that she was going out with a friend in need of a pick-me-up, she waited out on the front porch steps and killed some time sharpening a few wooden stakes with a Bowie knife, unconcerned of how she probably looked to her neighbors, a twenty-something reasonably attractive girl spending her night kicked back on the porch whittling at sticks. Hardly the weirdest thing she'd ever done to get the neighbor's attention...no, that would be starting a small fire in her backyard to burn some clothing, an entire outfit that had been ruined when she'd run amiss of a very smelly demon.

She still mourned the loss of those shoes.

Hearing the crunch of gravel at the base of the driveway, Baileigh stuck the knife back down in her boot and got to her feet, dusted wood shavings off of her jeans as what she assumed was Ford's car pulled up to the house.

Comments

[deep-red-bells.livejournal.com]

"Three very good things to have!" she quipped with a grin, glancing over her shoulder as she backed the Jeep out of the driveway. "Feel free to search the radio stations--we need good 'grrr' vampire hunting music. Of course, now that I've said that, all you'll be able to find is Enya or something."

[and-twosyllable.livejournal.com]

Ford didn't waste any time fiddling with the radio stations. Pretty soon he came to The Sex Pistols' "London Calling" and he couldn't help but let go of the dial and sit back. He held back a grin, not even telling her why he made the decision - he just liked the sound. And maybe he started to rock out to it.

[deep-red-bells.livejournal.com]

Baileigh burst into giggles and nodded in approval: at least it wasn't Enya. "You start headbanging, I might have to mock you, mercilessly," she grinned, turning left out of the driveway.

[and-twosyllable.livejournal.com]

It was definitely the antithesis of Enya. "Good thing I wasn't born -- well, I was, but I was a baby so I didn't develop a head-banging preference," he said, bouncing his head to the music - not banging.

London calling... he sung out.