~*~Branded RP (Role Play)~*~

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The driver rolled it down, "Where do you kids want to go?"

(She smiled in Vesta's general direction? I have a bad feeling about this...)
 
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Gertrude McFuzz said:
The driver rolled it down, "Where do you kids want to go?"

(She smiled at Vesta? I have a bad feeling about this.)
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"First of, where are we?" Lark asked the man. "What city... state... country... so on and so forth."

( That's the point of Lark: she's just flat-out rude. )
 
"Alright," Lark said with a little nod of her head. "Where are you heading? Is Alaska a little out of your way?"

( That's not where she live(d), just in case you're wondering. )
 
He stared at her, "That's not even in the lower forty-eight."

Vesta pushed Lark out of the way, "I'm sorry, she thinks she's funny. I hope. But can you just get us to the town square?" He nodded.
 
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Gertrude McFuzz said:
He stared at her, "That's not even in the lower forty-eight."

Vesta pushed Lark out of the way, "I'm sorry, she thinks she's funny. I hope. But can you just get us to the town square?"
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Lark pondered for a moment on what the lower forty-eight was. Then it hit her. "Then Texas, please!" she yelled, the last word muffled from Vesta pushing her out of the way.
 
(Lark isn't one for geography, is she? :D)

The driver shrugged and rolled up the window. He started the car up. With a loud sputtering and a jerk, they were off.
 
( Hehe, I guess not!
lol.png
. )

Lark rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing herself off. "Thanks," she spat, her fury aimed towards Vesta, "my face was getting tired of air, anyways! It needed to lay on a bumpy floor!"

Turning away, she sat next to the bloodhound again, petting it as its drool began to fall from its maw.

"What city are we going to? I hope it's Dallas. I've heard they have good raviolis."
 
"Your welcome." said Vesta breezily, "And we're in Massachusetts. That's in New England. As in nowhere near Texas. So no ravioli, but tons of ice cream."
 
( I don't know for sure if the ravioli's good in Dallas, so don't hold me to it. )

"I'll take that," Lark said, her eyes brightening like a kid's on Christmas Day.

As fast as lightning strikes the ground, a pale hand appeared from under the seats of the truck's back, grabbing Vesta's ankle in an iron grasp.
 
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