Untitled Snippet

[raptureofthemoon]

Six Sentence Sunday: Post six sentences from whatever you're working on. 

This is from a Bad Batch fic that will be part of my Written in the Dust series

Tech would have liked to take his time walking through the city, examine the architecture a little closer, catalog some of the plants, breathe in the salted, ocean air.

But Crosshair was in a mood.

And when Crosshair was in a mood, it behooved someone to follow him. That someone was usually Tech.

Which, he supposed, was only logical. He had been doing it most of their lives, from the evenings Crosshair would disappear, tucking himself into a little used storage area he'd turned into a nest when the stress of training got to him, to the nights he let the war or Regs or some torrent of thought get to him and lost himself in the seediest streets he could find, looking for a fight or a fuck, whichever came first.