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Summary
pandoran filth didn’t mix well with professional, lottie recalled jack snarling over a glass of whiskey a long time ago. he had made a remark on how another ex-pandoran was trying to steal his work, how the bitch only got here ‘cause she had nice legs or whatever. lottie took a sip of her drink, her face visibly scrunching. pandoran bastards, jack sneered. all of em.
they were friends. nothing more, nothing less. minus a few mistakes here and there.
often, lottie and jack would lean against her apartment’s couch, shooting the shit till one of them decided it had been long enough or until a move was made. jack would watch lottie’s eyes fight to stay open, watch as her grip on the bottle of cheap beer began to weaken
lottie sighed. she was, one again, worthlessly reminiscing on the time when he was just as meaningless as herself. now, he is handsome jack. handsome jack is the hero. and lottie, she is just a blip, a small chapter in his shitty, never-ending story.