[ resting against the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor, gin looks sleepy. she has half a bottle of some cheap alcohol by her side and is, most likely, inebriated. enough to be breaking at least one law about underage drinking. but she's a teenager, she's in the mafia— it's not like other's from the training don't do the same.
tomorrow she'll show up again, focus to master the techniques verlaine has been drilling into her. she cannot relay on an ability so she must be better, stronger, more lethal. to be anything less is a weakness and she doesn't want die, or worse to be back in the streets.
that doesn't mean it's not frustrating. her brother made this decision but gin? gin resents him a little for it. ]
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tomorrow she'll show up again, focus to master the techniques verlaine has been drilling into her. she cannot relay on an ability so she must be better, stronger, more lethal. to be anything less is a weakness and she doesn't want die, or worse to be back in the streets.
that doesn't mean it's not frustrating. her brother made this decision but gin? gin resents him a little for it. ]