reid's Literatures

hunt groaned, the side of his face pressed against the hood of the car as he tilted his head to stare at prowl.

"there's no stars here," he mumbled- voice hoarse. it still hurt. everything still hurt. the memory was vivid in his mind. the feeling of teeth- of stitches- of cauterised wounds and saline and. . . the weeks in the hospital. the sharp ache in his throat when he spoke was a dull reminder of it all.

"it's new york city, wha'd ya expect?"