roscoe boots

Still of the Night || Open

The cool September breeze rustled a pair of leaves by Roscoe’s boot, the man’s gaze following them down Swynlake’s main street until they blurred in with the rest of their surroundings. His gaze was quick to switch to the opposing side, raking over entrance of the park and a few of the store fronts before him as his hands clasped together idly in front of his face, bouncing lightly along his heels from his squatted position. It was quiet - eerily so, but it didn’t scare the man. Much. 

After all, surely this whole on-going curfew thing Swynlake had no real meaning, right? That there was no true reason that he couldn’t just sit here all night without some ‘boogeymen’ jumping out at him from the bushes. Perhaps the worst thing that would happen is some crazy homeless person would bother him. But Vampires? Yeah fuckin’ right. This town was just looking for bullshit excuses to keep people from doing what they wanted. It couldn’t be against the fucking law to be outside after a certain hour, and damn if Roscoe was going to listen to some stupid curfew law anyway. 

“Curfew my ass…” The man muttered, unaware someone was close enough to hear him as he shook his head with a scoff. “This whole town’s a bunch of bullshit.”