It's not a hobby I particularly enjoy, love. Especially not when I've a bounty on my head.
[The pursuing car is tailing them a bit too closely for him to easily shake them. The windows are too tinted for him to make out the faces of the relentless bastards though he doubts Moriarty would care much about primary school level criminals. And while he doesn't mind the chase - hell, he likes it every once and awhile when the tables are turned - he does mind that he has little Miss Whip-and-Cuffs sitting next to him, making coy conversation.
He is about to make a sudden right turn and it's only the sudden shift in vantage point that allows him to see the back driver's side window roll down an inch or so... just enough for the nuzzle of something that looks suspiciously like a Uzi to poke out.]
Oh bugger me. [Fuck being subtle - this was clearly not going to be his night. He turns more sharply than planned and, once he sees the street ahead is clear for two or three blocks, slams on the gas so fiercely, the tires squeal.] Who the hell did you piss off?
[They didn't start shooting, but that only meant they weren't going to shoot blind and hope to hit a target. The last thing Moran wants to face this time of night are somewhat clever goons.]
no subject
[The pursuing car is tailing them a bit too closely for him to easily shake them. The windows are too tinted for him to make out the faces of the relentless bastards though he doubts Moriarty would care much about primary school level criminals. And while he doesn't mind the chase - hell, he likes it every once and awhile when the tables are turned - he does mind that he has little Miss Whip-and-Cuffs sitting next to him, making coy conversation.
He is about to make a sudden right turn and it's only the sudden shift in vantage point that allows him to see the back driver's side window roll down an inch or so... just enough for the nuzzle of something that looks suspiciously like a Uzi to poke out.]
Oh bugger me. [Fuck being subtle - this was clearly not going to be his night. He turns more sharply than planned and, once he sees the street ahead is clear for two or three blocks, slams on the gas so fiercely, the tires squeal.] Who the hell did you piss off?
[They didn't start shooting, but that only meant they weren't going to shoot blind and hope to hit a target. The last thing Moran wants to face this time of night are somewhat clever goons.]