(no subject)

[chapelsend.livejournal.com]

[it's a crumbling bit of stone and sitting on the edge of it is Wolfwood, a bottle of Wild Turkey in one hand and a bloody piece of paper in the other. he looks down at the paper, snarls, crumples it and tosses it before taking a long drink from the bottle. Setting it down he digs out his cigarettes, lits up and inhales, leaning forward and frowning. He doesn't move after that, the smoke curling around his head, and his expression cold.]