Post by Carter on Nov 29, 2009 0:47:21 GMT -4
Carter wasn't one to feel bad about thing...he was a hired killer after all. You couldn't really go around feeling bad for the people after you diced them into tiny little pieces it was bad for thy image so Carter made it a habbit not to give a damn...much of one anyways and it seemed to work out pretty good so far. But for some damnr eason Carter felt bad and it wasn't exactly cause he had taken a lot fo money from Mercy or the fact he owed her his life a few times over but it was the whole fact that he had told her family that she was dead that for some reason was eatting at him.
He hadn't said much to her that morning as he had sat glaring at the television since there was nothing on save for that god damn parade. He hated the holidays and he did much better wehn it was simply him alone...he could go kill something and be joyful and triumphant all on his own. Mercy was no doubt not pleased that he was up and about after ahving nearly bled to death twice in a row but he got bored and his powers were dickening around since he had kentucky fried chickened the vampires.
Mercy had left to no doubt go on one of her famouse "walks" and Carter had sat glaring.
He didn't like feeling things towards people; it usually meant they were going to die eventually and that just became a hassel. But Mercy's mother's voice on the phone grated on his god damn nerves like nails on a chalk board so he had forced himself up and out of the convent and to the stupid 24 hour Wal-Mart that was outside of New Orleans and bought a god damn turkey and a god damn sack of potatoes and a stupid ass sack of vegetables and a fucking roll of bread and then returned back with his disgruntley purchased "Thanksgiving Dinner."
Carter couldn't cook.
Well no correction Carter could throw things in the microwave like they were nobodies business but cooking a meal...for real people to eat was not something he did. So pulling teh wrapping off of the turkey and shoving it into the oven sans pan and hiking the oven up to 400 Carter figured was as good a plan as any. He tossed the bread on the table and nuked the vegetables (that he could do) and tossed the potatoes in a pot of water to let them sit. He stared for a moment at the kitchen not knowing what else he needed to do so he checked the oven and the turkey still looked raw...this was going to take awhile.
"Fucking slow ass bird," Carter muttered sitting himself down at the table Carter picked at the table cloth Mercy had insited on putting on the table.
Fucking table cloth.
Carter stared around the kitchen for awhile and in no time he ended up falling asleep with his head resting against his arms the slight weakness from the not so distant attack on him wearing him down slightly.
He hadn't said much to her that morning as he had sat glaring at the television since there was nothing on save for that god damn parade. He hated the holidays and he did much better wehn it was simply him alone...he could go kill something and be joyful and triumphant all on his own. Mercy was no doubt not pleased that he was up and about after ahving nearly bled to death twice in a row but he got bored and his powers were dickening around since he had kentucky fried chickened the vampires.
Mercy had left to no doubt go on one of her famouse "walks" and Carter had sat glaring.
He didn't like feeling things towards people; it usually meant they were going to die eventually and that just became a hassel. But Mercy's mother's voice on the phone grated on his god damn nerves like nails on a chalk board so he had forced himself up and out of the convent and to the stupid 24 hour Wal-Mart that was outside of New Orleans and bought a god damn turkey and a god damn sack of potatoes and a stupid ass sack of vegetables and a fucking roll of bread and then returned back with his disgruntley purchased "Thanksgiving Dinner."
Carter couldn't cook.
Well no correction Carter could throw things in the microwave like they were nobodies business but cooking a meal...for real people to eat was not something he did. So pulling teh wrapping off of the turkey and shoving it into the oven sans pan and hiking the oven up to 400 Carter figured was as good a plan as any. He tossed the bread on the table and nuked the vegetables (that he could do) and tossed the potatoes in a pot of water to let them sit. He stared for a moment at the kitchen not knowing what else he needed to do so he checked the oven and the turkey still looked raw...this was going to take awhile.
"Fucking slow ass bird," Carter muttered sitting himself down at the table Carter picked at the table cloth Mercy had insited on putting on the table.
Fucking table cloth.
Carter stared around the kitchen for awhile and in no time he ended up falling asleep with his head resting against his arms the slight weakness from the not so distant attack on him wearing him down slightly.