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And that's when I snapped up my left hand and smashed him in the face with the hammer I'd grabbed.

Jennifer Estep

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Jennifer Estep
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Author
Writer
Grabbed
Hammer
Hammers
Hand
Face
Faces
Smashed
Left
Hands
Snapped

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Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?
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Easy was for people too weak to suck it up and do what needed to be done. And I wasn’t weak. Not anymore.
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Instead, I cut him. Not deep, but there was enough of a sting in the wound to remind him of what I'd done to the dwarven mobsters in the parking lot - and that I wasn't just some chick with a knife who looked good in black.
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I might be an assassin, but never let it be said I wasn't as gracious a hostess as the next gal.
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That was my favorite dagger. She had a favorite dagger? Seriously? And she thought that I was a freak.
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I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.
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I know, I know. But I can always kill him later. This way, at least we get to humiliate him first.” Finn eyed me. “Sometimes I think you’re even more devious, twisted, and vicious than I am.” I grinned. “You only wish you could be as ruthless as me.” “Absolutely.
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Killing people was far easier than making polite chitchat.
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Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.
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What was it with people always trying to kill me in the library? Nickamedes so needed to put up warning signs. Danger: Working here could be hazardous to your health.
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Have I ever told you how scary it is that you think of heels in terms of their possible shiv potential?
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I know that maniacal twinkle in your eye. You're up to something Gwen, he said.
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Well, what did you have for lunch?” I snapped. “Surely that’s not top secret superhero information.” “Steak with mashed potatoes and a side salad,” Striker replied. “And a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert.” I gave up on conversation after that. I was too jealous of the cheesecake to continue.
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You're mine, Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.
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Don't you agree, fuzzball?
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I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.
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You're just jealous. Hardly. Been there, done you. Adequate, but unremarkable.
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The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.
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Are you coming along peaceful-like, or am I going to have to hog-tie you and put you in the car?
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Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. That little toothpick won't save you, Gypsy. Touthpick? Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!
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