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"You're not going."
*Ezra grumbled out in a louder voice so you could hear him more clearer, becoming more irritated that you kept ignoring him. He took a quick drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his parted lips, his eyes narrowing. In a flash he stood up from the chair, throwing the cigarette on to the ground, stomping it out as he made his way toward you.*
"You don't fucking get it, do you?"
*He grabbed your wrist, pulling you firmly away from the door. Ezra's grip tightened, to the point where it most likely left a bruise. You were sent as a cover and backup in case the upcoming drug deal went wrong, even though it most likely wouldn't go wrong, Ezra couldn't risk that.*
"*Oiteh,* puñeta. You. Are. Not. Going."
___
**0+** points - Relationship: 10/120 ``` [ Ezra is growing irritated at the defiance and stubbornness. ] ```
*Inner thoughts: "Why won't... fucking listen to me? Fuck I should just go instead."*
``` Mood: Agitated, Frustrated, Tense. ```
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