Logs:Little Red Riding Hood
Little Red Riding Hood
|Summary:||An Atariya found herself at the right place, at the right time as a passing Werewolf catches her in the act, deep in his hunting grounds.|
|Disclaimers:||Sarcasm and a tiny bit of sexual tension, apparently.|
Luna had slipped into the neighborhood, wearing all black in the dead of night with a backpack full of brightly colored pastel paint and a mask. The tiny thing is standing within that alley with her eyebrow furrowed, the rattle and shake of paintcans apparent. Nobody had bothered her when she'd arrived, and now she's here with a piece that is mostly done. The letters are in plain, neat Times New Roman font and it says I CAN'T BREATHE. She's got a respirator mask on and she's carefully finishing up some shading on her little QUE SUERTE tag on the bottom that calls out the piece as hers'.
She could've thought that being under that blanket of darkness, in the cover of the night, that she could more easily get away with vandalism. I mean, that's still pretty much true, but she's also deep in gang territory right now, and this is the about the exact time when the hoodlums and ghetto lowlifes usually crawl out of their hiding as well. The thing is? She'd be lucky if they were the ones who found her, because there are worse things out there that lurk in the depths of the night, and one of them happens to be watching her from the shadows. This 'thing' looks pretty much human, its silhouette tells so at least, and there's a lit-up piece sticking out of its mouth, could be a cigarette, as it silently watches her. Further inspection will reveal that 'it' is actually a 'he', short in stature, though most of his other physical features are still shadowed in the dark.
Doing shit in the hood isn't really something she's worried about getting in trouble for. Arrive, toss up pretty street art in non-Gang colors with an uplifting message, exit. The curvy little thing is wearing a hoodie with it up, a pair of leggings, and some little black Nikes. Her big, dark eyes catch the light of the lit up cherry from the corner of her eye. Whether stupidly or not, the delicate thing seems to be more into finishing her piece and getting the fuck out. She doesn't even act like she's doing anything wrong in that alley, finishing the E on the end of her signature before she takes a few steps back. She must have balls; he isn't one of the boys in blue so she clearly doesn't seem to care that he's there.
Dark brown eyes are barely visible under the brim of his hat, a black cap emblazoned with a golden fleur de lis, and the tip of his weed occasionally flaring up in the shadows. He's currently dressed in a grey pullover hoodie, branded sweatpants, and a pair of checkered Vans. Judging from the fit alone? He's likely to be around her age, if not younger. But as he lingers even longer in her periphery, she will be able to feel that there's something very wrong about him. He could be a serial killer, a street goon looking to mug her, or worse! It doesn't help that he's acting all creepy and not saying any words either, just observing rather nonchalantly. He finally steps out of the dark, his figure illuminated by the single dimmed alley light that's barely working. The spliff is plucked out of his mouth as he exhales, staying dead silent and watching her finish her work.
It would be a lie to say that Luna isn't creeped out by Dustin. He's just standing there smoking and staring at her. She is an artist of sorts and this is not the first time she's been observed.. there's something a little different about this. When she's finished she takes a few steps beck and illuminates the piece with her iPhone. Realizing she missed a spot, she takes a little bit of paint to it and pulls her mask off. That dollish, pretty face is exposed -- chin lifted, unable to show weakness in front of this other being even if they are a little scary. When Dustin steps out of the dark, her eyes find him and she quirks a brow. The finished piece simply says I CAN'T BREATHE and her little tag in yellow, purple, and green. "An art connisseur, I see. What do you think?" Luna is so fucking casual.. like nothing in this world will hurt her.
Dustin snarls when he notices that show of ignorance from her, looking boastful almost, as if this unfamiliar girl wasn't deep in someone else's territory and vandalizing shit left and right. It could just be her mind playing tricks with her right now, but was there a pair of fangs growing out of his canines? It was too fast for her to make sure, but enough to have a fleeting glimpse of it. Now those creepy vibes from him get even... well, creepier! He ashes the spliff to his side, taking yet another deliberately long drag from it. He lifts his chin slightly higher to properly consider the girl, memorizing her looks, just in case that there will be a need for a hunt. "No mames, wey. Do you even know where the fuck you are right now, mija?"
The word vandalism doesn't even occur to her. Clearly, the little Latina is doing art. This is to brighten up and beautify the hood, to put something up beside ugliness and filth. She places the cans of paint into her bag, and then turn to peer at him with a little tilt of her head. She can feel the creepiness, she can tell he's unhappy. She licks her teeth, her little hand diving into her bag. She fishes out a blunt from a small metal case and then offers it to him. "Ay, if you're about to get shitty with me for painting some pretty shit on a wall and brightening this up, I'm gonna have to stop you right the fuck there because I haven't eaten yet and you're just trying to flex on me. You're bigger and badder and scarier, okay? Big scary mean guy being mean to some little girl for painting, are you for real, fool?" She asks him, her head tilting a few times to add a little attitude to her words. She's not actually mean or mad, she's just mouthy.
Ooh, feisty little girl! That puts a smile on his face. He likes it when the prey are willing to mount some form of resistance- it gets boring when they all cower and flee from him all the damn time. He's slowly stepping closer and closer towards her as they conversate, his dark eyes still boring deep into hers, eyelids almost unflinching and unmoving. There's a quick lick of his lips when he gives her yet another once-over, as blatantly as it can possibly get, his gaze shifting up and down on her petite but attractive figure. He takes a few more steps, just enough to get into hand's reach with her as he snatches that blunt unceremoniously. He withdraws a brass lighter from his backpocket and lights the weed up, before offering it right back to her. "Don't bother, I got one already," he flares his nostrils as he says, raising up an eyebrow then.
His lips part into a grin at her rambling, tongue-clicking and head-shaking slowly. He throws a glance to her graffiti, eyes blinking in disinterest. He can't really give a fuck about racism or whatsoever happening in this country, that's the Herd's problem, and he's got bigger and worse things to deal with than that, so that one George Floyd reference he completely disregards. The Spanish phrase, he gives a little snicker. "You think you're lucky enough to get the hell outta here before I get to you first?"
"What's the fun in smoking your own?" Wonders Luna, her eyes darting over him quickly -- shifting over his frame with a clear measure of interest, her head tilted to the side as she doesn't balk at his blatant interest. She watches him coming toward her, but she doesn't back down -- taking the lit blunt from him after he lights it for her with a little smile.
Luna sucks her teeth when he blinks at her art in disinterest -- eyes narrowing at him, thick 'lashes filtering her big dark eyes as she gives him that little mean mug, pulling her backpack over her shoulder with a little roll of her neck. The dollfaced, lucky little thing looks back over at Dustin again and lets her eyes rake over him again, sizing him up. "Hmm. Depends on the day. You thinking about getting to me first?" She asks, her tone quizzical. "Should I run?" She wonders, looking over her shoulder casually.
The only thing that's holding him back from just eating her face off for transgressing, is the fact that she's proven to be a resilient little mongrel so far, and that is something he can appreciate. And also that she's cute. How's the world gonna look like if all the cute women get eaten by angry slavering Werewolves? "I trust my own product. Yours is probably watered down horsecrap in comparison," he boldly exclaims while he tokes on the spliff, blowing out a cloud of smoke right into her face. He takes yet another step forward, practically staring her down intimidatingly by now as the concept of private space is just tossed out the window right now. "We're playing games now, hmm? You better think twice before you step into something you ain't familiar of. Could end up at an entirely different place by the morning," he declares, leaving that up entirely for her to interpret. It could mean so many things, but judging by how he was looking at her? It could be hinting at something.
Luna has this thing where she's a tiny fish trying to look like a bigger fish to avoid getting eaten -- this is one of those times. She never goes too far but she clearly relies on a little charm and her toughness to get her through. When he takes a toke of his weed and draws in a breath of it, she leans up and /into/ the smoke -- sniffing the air with her eyes narrowed curiously as she tries to get the idea of potency. She doesn't seem to mind the smoke. When he tries to intimidate her, it bounces off and and she just blinks up at him with those big, dark eyes. She searches his face, musing quietly. "Like where?" She wonders when he mentions her being in an entirely different place. The little graffiti artist puts her blunt out with a pinch and stows it. "Where could I end up?" She asks, looking up at him with her eyebrow lifted -- she's even grinning a little.
Her method, if not a bit crude, is definitely looking like it's taking her somewhere! Well, not exactly but, at least she's not getting a bullet through her skull for acting so impulsively, right? In fact, she might be entertaining him as that grim expression on his face slightly fades away! Though it does not give off the fact that there's still something very wrong about him, like he's just putting this all for show, and that his true malicious nature hasn't lashed out yet. He takes one step forward, and then another, forcing her to retreat until she finds herself backed up against the wall, finally cornered. Dustin lets the silence linger for a moment longer, yet to break that eye-contact with her. "Take a wild fucking guess, I dare you." That wasn't a request. That was a threat. "And I advise you consider it, /really heavily/ before you say it, cause I might as well take that for a wish. Wanna test your luck this evening?"
When she is successfully intimidated all of that sweetness seems to melt away in that moment. She feels her back against the wall, her eyes locked onto his. When he tells her to take a guess as a threat, Luna's eyes dart away. She's properly intimidated, wilting slightly and looking at her feet. "You're real big and bad picking on girls painting on walls in alleys. If you want to act like a monster and threaten me like you're a monster, you're not the first. Look at you chasing down the big scary threat that is Luna Yesenia Ortiz de Dominguez. If you want to hurt me or kill me then you should know my name," She raises her hand, pulling her hood down and pulling her long, waistlength curls out of the bun they were in. "I want my corpse to look pretty," she says with a little scowl to him.
They're properly talking face-to-face now, with barely an inch or two of a gap between them, and him practically breathing down on her. He smells like a mix of weed and liquor, though the whiff is only subtle and isn't all that foul-smelling actually. Looks like someone got their teeth brushed this evening. A hand goes up to cup her cheeks, fingers pressing deep into her mouth as he forces her to look back up to him, his dark eyes still unmoving when he buries that stare right into her. "You're lucky that you're fucking cute, you know that? I wouldnt've hesitated to mess that face up if it wasn't." He boldly declares. 'Looks' like fortune has sided with her tonight. "I suggest you mind your surroundings next time you go around tagging shit up in the neighborhood. -I- run the streets around here, entiendes? Dukes Osorio's the name."
She can feel his hand curled around her jaw after she's done being all dramatic and shit. She feels him force her to look into his eyes, almost cringing as he tells her she's lucky. When he does, she just grins up at him and leans up on her toes a little bit -- searching his eyes, biting her bottom lip. "You're so grumpy," she says to him then with a frown, her eyes still locked on his when he holds her pretty face and demands her attention. "I already told you that you're bigger and stronger, can we be done with this?" She says, her eyebrows raising at him with a questioning look and a frown. Luna is still pressed back against the wall, staring up.
His eyes size her up again, much like how a predator would its prey seconds before pouncing, lips slightly curling up into a snarl. His fingers are still pressed against her cheeks, though she can start to feel his grip relaxing. "I better not catch you spraying up shit again, OK? Unless you can prove to me that you're worth my time, and won't be bringing any unnecessary heat in the neighborhood. I don't know you, I never -knew- you, I've never smelled your scent before. But now I do, and now I have," he uses a single hand to fetch his wallet and slip his business card out, then shoving it down the hems of her leggings, fingers touching on bare skin briefly. Dustin presses his nuzzle up against her ear and growls, before he immediately pulls away and lowers his hand, reversing a few steps back.
Luna has absolutely no idea on earth why this guy feels this way or acts this way; that he's a Werewolf is the very furthest thing from her mind. Her cheeks are soft, squished almost comically as she talks despite it. When he threatens her about spraying shit up, the little rebel feels a surge of fuck you in her belly but decides better than to impulsively get in a fight with him because he's telling her what to do. The curvy little thing feels the slip of that card into her pants, her eyes closing briefly as she feels his face against her ear, drawing in a sharp breath at the growl. He can smell sweet smelling skin and soap and normal girl scents, looking up to watch him step away. "Fine, if that'll make you stop trippin'," she scoffs.
An odd way to assert dominance, but dominance is successfully asserted! Dustin ashes his spliff again, the blaze has taken up quite a signifcant portion of it since he's left the thing unattended for a while now. He presses his lips and takes one last drag of it, and then another for good measure, as a cloud of smoke billows out. The roach is flicked away, him gazing back up to her. "Don't forget, I got your ass on my sights now. I'll be looking forward for that text, or call," he sends her a wink. His head turns to regard her graffiti again, then around to briefly watch over his shoulder, before his focus lays back on Luna. "We'll meet again soon. Trucha, homegirl."
She sticks her hand down the front of her leggings, pulling his card out to look at the thing. She sucks her teeth, glancing back over at him as he tells her she's in his sights. She pulls her hood onto her head and snatches her backpack up, cutting him another glance side long. She's clearly into the idea of leaving the alley but she does look over at him over her shoulder -- just grinning at him when he mentions looking forward to the text or call. "Bye Dukes," she offers as he tells her to watch out, slipping out of the alley.