Ess, Why, Dee
rating: 0+x

This tale is NSFW.

"I mean, obviously kill Cuomo." Cheap scotch went down so much better with friends. Shame Lyanna grew up around prudes. "Jenkins… Jenkins sounds fun, so fuck him… fuck, do I really gotta marry Morrissey?"

"I don't make the rules, dear." Now that wasn't exactly fair, given Izzy had set that round, but Lyanna supposed she'd get revenge soon enough. That's if the coin landed on heads, which it subsequently failed to do, but Lyanna was raised a stabber, not a quitter. "That's Jack, I believe."

Jack looked up from his phone. "Huh?"

"Your turn, casanova. Fuck, marry, kill…" Shit, Lyanna had only really planned for getting Izzy. Now that she had to plan for Jack of all people, she needed to get creative fast. "… right. Fuck, marry, kill… Kurt Cobain, Vinnie Paul, Roger Wa-"

The front door slammed open, and muscle memory moved Lyanna's flask out of sight. "Holy shit. Y'all didn't tell me there's a whole city."

Ah, Sara.

Izzy didn't even look up. "Afternoon, Jackrabbit. Find anything fun?"

Sara chuckled. "Oh shut up, Izzy." Sara's purse was thrown haphazardly onto an understuffed sofa chair as she plopped herself into the trio's circle.

"Dude, hang low."

Natan Krump

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