2015-08-13 17:33:39 ¶ ● ⬀ ⬈

kadamkills:

> Briefly the phrase “you wish” flutters through her thoughts but her focus shifts as she feels the subtle movement of her hat. Did he just? And there he went just out of grasp. The gunslinger gives props to his gal but she’s in just the right mood to put him in his place. Still he returns to an arms reach (probably not the best desicion after being so cheeky) and amber eyes ignite with a trademark wickedness.
> Touching the hat was a privilege, not a right and she was gonna teach him the laws set in place. Idle fingers lift upwards, feigning a small gesture to even out the shoulder of his shirt as he spoke. She takes a moment to pause after he’s done speaking before her eyes flicker to meet his gaze. In one quick second the gunslinger slams his back into the wall, pinning him there with her forearm against his chest.

> A free hand slides down to her holster, unclipping the pistol with ease as she slowly drags the weapon up and presses it lightly against his jaw. “You’re walkin’ into dangerous territory, Hyperion boy” Her voice accentuates the nickname with syrupy malice, eyes narrowing slightly as her smirk matches the tone. Her knee rises to meet the center of his jeans, adding enough pressure so her control wasn’t to be questioned. Leaning closer she mutters just softly enough so he can hear her clearly.
> “Think you’re getting a little too big for your britches there, partner~”

He yelps as his back meets cold and unyielding metal, staring dumbly at the arm pinning him in place and forcing his lungs to work harder under it’s pressure for a few moments before his brain finally registers what’s going on.

“Uhh–heh–” He laughs nervously, tilting his head back as the muzzle of her pistol kisses his jawline. He shrugs as much as he can under her grip, a witty excuse on the tip of his tongue that quickly raises several octaves with the knee to his crotch.

Any normal person would take the gun to their face and risk of injury below the belt as a warning, but this is Handsome Jack, and there’s nothing Handsome Jack loves more than challenging authority. He’s the friggin’ boss, after all.
“Yeah?” He breathes in a low whisper, “They are feeling kinda tight. Maybe I should, uh– y’know. Take ‘em off.” He slides his hips forward, subtly grinding the front of his jeans against the law-bringer’s leg. Whatever punishment Nisha decides to bestow on him for that little action, they are definitely going to be late.