[ Johnny had thought the Boss was dead. They all had. They'd survived a lot of shit in their lives, but this had to be pushing it, even for the leader of the Saints. Everyone had said their goodbyes except for Johnny, who'd stayed as silent as one could when slamming their fist into metal. Later, when asked about it, he'd lie and just say he knew the Boss was going to be fine, so a goodbye would have been a waste of his fucking breath.
For someone who had thought that his best friend had just died, the text Johnny sent back was (un)surprisingly devoid of any real emotional response. ]
on my way
[ And he really was there as fast as he could be, thanks to a stolen plane. There were several more strategical plans to get into the White House instead of barreling through the front door, but they didn't sound nearly as fun. Without a map of the White House -- and he wasn't about to pause long enough to try and find one -- he wound up going room to room until he actually found the Oval Office. ]
I'd complain you didn't leave me many, but they've got more coming.
[ He said it with a grin. Reinforcements might have been disheartening (or terrifying) to some, but for Johnny Gat, it was all a part of the fun. ]
no subject
For someone who had thought that his best friend had just died, the text Johnny sent back was (un)surprisingly devoid of any real emotional response. ]
on my way
[ And he really was there as fast as he could be, thanks to a stolen plane. There were several more strategical plans to get into the White House instead of barreling through the front door, but they didn't sound nearly as fun. Without a map of the White House -- and he wasn't about to pause long enough to try and find one -- he wound up going room to room until he actually found the Oval Office. ]
I'd complain you didn't leave me many, but they've got more coming.
[ He said it with a grin. Reinforcements might have been disheartening (or terrifying) to some, but for Johnny Gat, it was all a part of the fun. ]