WildORCA
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He flicked the lighter again, cupping his palm tight around the flame. Somewhere above them, the sky had taken on that specific sickly yellow-brown hue that meant the storm was coming in faster than forecasted.
A few feet away, Rudo stood with his boots planted uncertainly, posture stiff in the way people got when adrenaline finally began to drain out of them. His hands were tucked close to his chest, cradling something fragile with reverent care.
A tiny succulent, stubbornly alive, nestled in a previously cracked tea cup. It had been carefully glued back together, the seam still visible despite the effort taken to mend it. Twine had been wrapped around a few times for good measure.
He watched Enjin struggle with the lighter for another moment before finally speaking.
“So,” Rudo squinted across the street, “If she works for the Cleaners… why’s the shop in town and not part of HQ?”
Enjin finally got the cigarette lit and took a drag. The smoke barely made it past his lips before the wind stole it away.
“She doesn’t work for us,” he said, tone easy, almost lazy, even as his eyes never quite left the door.
“Bro Santa said–”
“Yeah,” Enjin tapped the cigarette, “He says a lot.”Bookmarked by WildORCA
16 Jan 2026