The work of a woman (OPEN)

[Jane Corsiek]

Jane flicked her hair back out of her eyes. She had been working in the icy weather for nearly 2 hours, loading 50 pound boxes onto a truck. Though this didnt seem like much after a while the weight seemed to weigh her down a bit.
She tossed the last box up to a man on the truck and took in a deep breath before going in search of another box or 2, just in case they were left behind.
She was dressed in solid black, a black jacket, a black pair of slacks, even black gloves and boots.
She watched her breath in the chilling air, stopping short of the building she had been pulling boxes out of. she shielded her eyes from the sun and rose a brow.
Now, who can that be? She thought.

[Trent Algard]

Trent stood stop a building, out of his 'hero' unifrom, staring down at the street. His blue eyes reflected off of the metal of the truck, and his brown hair stood dead still, uneffected by the wind. He did not mind the cold, in fact, he embraced. It reminded him of what the cold embrace of death felt like...which he longed for. The black jacket which he wore was unzipped, waving in the wind, acting as if it were drawn to somewhere, and his black pants were sagging, as usual. The sign of a lazy man, was the sign he showed off, a pocket watch dangling out of his pocket, it's gleam blinding those who look in the direction of this man.
Trent, at the time, had his hands in his pockets, and was whistling a tune which would be recognizable for those who heard Michael Jackson. He was whistling in the same tune as the one that Michael had made for the song 'Thirller', and he was tapping his foot to the beat of which he was whistling, staring at the cold air he emitted with each tune he whistled. Such peace.