˚✧˳ ❝ Or what..? You're gonna kill me? ❞ Five scoffs. His fingers were wrapped around my wrist as every footstep forward he took only tightens his grip. His face inched closer, as if mocking me and my petrified threat.
My heart dropped. The devilis...
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❝ If I had a gun, I'd shoot myself right now. ❞
✧ RIGHT BACK WHERE WE STARTED ✧
˚✧˳✧˚✧˳✧˚✧ ☂️ ✧˚✧˳✧˚✧˳✧˚
(Y/N) HARGREEVES
"IF YOU DON'T GIVE YOUR MAN double-oh-five, I will," I stated alluringly as I presented the small container that indicated the product.
"If your man lives for excitement, give him double-oh-five. There's a double-oh-five gift set for every assignment; This one packs the full line including aftershave, hairdressing, and cologne." Audio continues.
"That's double-oh-five—The license to kill... Women." And with that last line, it was a wrap.
˚✧˳✧˚✧˳✧˚✧ ☂️ ✧˚✧˳✧˚✧˳✧˚
"How can you make equality present in workplaces for both men and women?" A woman with legs crossed asked.
"To be able to accomplish such simply etiquette requires the officials to act and approve the equal pay act—Next question, please," I replied boredly.
"Why are you fighting the Dean for Women system?" A man questioned.
"I believe it's prejudice against women—Next question, please—Can we please go back to the fashion questions?" I laughed awkwardly.
Well, yeah, okay. I fought for women's rights in the 60s' who gives a shit, but everyone is just so misogynistic that even breathing is a personal attack against men.
I literally became the symbol for women's rights just because I do whatever the hell I want and don't follow dumb rules.
But to be honest I just keep forgetting I'm in the 60s'. I wore shorts out that one time because it was 900 for-god-who-knows degrees outside and my booty kinda became the reason for a car accident.
"What is your relationship status? Please tell us what is going on between you and Mr. Harry Tomlinson." The one that wore circled glasses and looks like a creep asked.
"Nevermind. Next question, please."
Harry. You guys remember Harry right?
Hehe. I know ya'll are excited. Well, false alarm, I made Harry my bitch—No, I'm joking.
Harry and I became friends.
Well, I saved his life and he saved mine. I'm thankful to have him.
"What does the tattoo on your arm mean?" Suddenly, that question popped out of nowhere.
