Post by Tweaker on Jan 1, 2022 21:23:24 GMT
The electric hum of the vault alarm echoed in the lobby of the small New York bank, rattling the eardrums of the panicked, huddled patrons trapped inside. It was a teensy bit annoying - just a teensy, tinesy bit. Why did it have to go off the moment they touched the door? Why couldn't it wait it's turn until they actually got the vault open? Tch, impatient, impatient - but Tweaker understood. Sometimes it was nice to cut right to the chase and express yourself without a moment's hesitation. Leaning back from where she sat on the counter, she whistled along to the screech, kicking her feet and bobbing her head at the captives. If they could see behind her mask, they'd see her grinning.
"Don't worry, little tulips. It'll all be over soon, then you can go back to your boring lives."
She didn't understand why they all seemed so scared. Wasn't it exciting, to be a part of something like this? Even as the front desk prowled around the hostages like an angry lion, drawer opening and closing in snarls to let loose its coiled paperwork tongue? Even as the paintings of nameless men and women on the walls grimaced and jeered, or the vault alarm - wavering in its shrill screech - seemed to shift into an operatic falsetto? Tweaker would certainly enjoy such a show, was enjoying it, but they all just seemed - blandly terrified. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. Things were growing a little impatient. There was only so much you could do in the moment before it was time to move on to the next.
"Maybe one of the bank people knows the code," she called over her shoulder to her accomplice. "Bet you could beat it out of them!"
"Don't worry, little tulips. It'll all be over soon, then you can go back to your boring lives."
She didn't understand why they all seemed so scared. Wasn't it exciting, to be a part of something like this? Even as the front desk prowled around the hostages like an angry lion, drawer opening and closing in snarls to let loose its coiled paperwork tongue? Even as the paintings of nameless men and women on the walls grimaced and jeered, or the vault alarm - wavering in its shrill screech - seemed to shift into an operatic falsetto? Tweaker would certainly enjoy such a show, was enjoying it, but they all just seemed - blandly terrified. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. Things were growing a little impatient. There was only so much you could do in the moment before it was time to move on to the next.
"Maybe one of the bank people knows the code," she called over her shoulder to her accomplice. "Bet you could beat it out of them!"