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true_writersOOC: In relation to this conversation.
It wasn't technically a riot, but Plissken's boyish side felt distinctly as if it was. How long had it been since he broke curfew? He had to have been a kid. Still it was thrilling to be here breaking the law. What kind of law was a curfew for adults. It was bullshit.
He sat side saddle on his bike under a streetlight with his back to the wall. He was in the open but he could see any approach. It was the perfect place. A few people had walked by an hour ago. They were balking the rules or rushing to keep them. It didn't matter because they weren't here any longer. He was there alone now waiting. He pulled out his pack of smokes and tapped out a cigarette.
Glancing around he replaced the pack and fished the lighter out of his pocket. He lit the smoke and smiled. Defiance was his game always but the smaller motions were always more satisfying. The matter of breaking the law, no, rioting against authority while sitting on his ass was too good. He could use a drink. Surely drinking after curfew was a bigger crime. He should have brought his flask.
Plissken laughed at the thought of a riot being so easy. How long did it take police to curtail rebellion? He glanced at his watch. One hour forty three minutes had past and no one had attempted to stop him. Some rule they had. Plissken shrugged to himself taking a look over the deserted streets. He needed a book or some shit at this rate. Sighing heavily he tossed the burned out butt onto the street. Where was this guy anyway?
Words: 282
It wasn't technically a riot, but Plissken's boyish side felt distinctly as if it was. How long had it been since he broke curfew? He had to have been a kid. Still it was thrilling to be here breaking the law. What kind of law was a curfew for adults. It was bullshit.
He sat side saddle on his bike under a streetlight with his back to the wall. He was in the open but he could see any approach. It was the perfect place. A few people had walked by an hour ago. They were balking the rules or rushing to keep them. It didn't matter because they weren't here any longer. He was there alone now waiting. He pulled out his pack of smokes and tapped out a cigarette.
Glancing around he replaced the pack and fished the lighter out of his pocket. He lit the smoke and smiled. Defiance was his game always but the smaller motions were always more satisfying. The matter of breaking the law, no, rioting against authority while sitting on his ass was too good. He could use a drink. Surely drinking after curfew was a bigger crime. He should have brought his flask.
Plissken laughed at the thought of a riot being so easy. How long did it take police to curtail rebellion? He glanced at his watch. One hour forty three minutes had past and no one had attempted to stop him. Some rule they had. Plissken shrugged to himself taking a look over the deserted streets. He needed a book or some shit at this rate. Sighing heavily he tossed the burned out butt onto the street. Where was this guy anyway?
Words: 282
