❝ my family are so fucked up. i love them ❞
hannah gallagher, the middle child.
a spit fire, a smart ass and god damn loyal.
as long as she doesn't turn out like her parents, she doesn't care.
she's just trying not to get herself killed.
❝ fuck the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
―
Hannah sat in between Ian and Lip as they were handcuffed to the bench that they were sat on. The redhead girl was being uncharacteristically quiet, staring down at her scuffed converse as her brothers talked to each other.
"If I get convicted, I can't enlist." Ian muttered.
Lip raised an eyebrow, "What?"
"In the Marines?" Ian reminded him.
"Good," Lip hummed, "I was planning on kneecapping you in your sleep to keep you out of Kandahar anyway."
Ian let out a small chuckle, "I was hoping for Korengal."
"Isn't that where, uh, Todd Iggulden's brother lost a foot?" Lip asked.
"Got him the Silver Star." Ian nodded.
"Yeah? And a handicapped placard to hang from the mirror of his mom's Civic." Lip said.
Ian glanced down at his sister, "Han. You okay?"
"Yeah, you're being scarily quiet." Lip added.
"What happens if Ackrington finds out about this?" The redheaded girl muttered, her stare unwavering from the ground, "What if they expel me?"
"They wouldn't." Ian shook his head.
"With their reputation to uphold? Yeah, they would." Hannah nodded as a cop made his way over to them.
"Phillip Gallagher," The man read from the file, taking a seat across from the three teenagers, "No relation to our favourite overnight guest Frank, I hope."
"Son." Lip said.
The detective raised an eyebrow, "You're Frank's kid? And this is your first felony bust? Getting a little late start for a Gallagher, aren't you?"
"Slow study, I guess." Lip hummed.
The man turned to the younger boy, "And Ian. Another Frank progeny?"
"'Fraid so." Lip nodded.
"You always let your brother speak for you, Ian?" The cop asked the younger boy.
"He's mute." Lip said.
Ian glared over at his older brother, "I can talk."
"And Hannah Gallagher," The detective finished, looking her file in his hands, "Ackrington Academy, huh? Thought they only took the clean cut."
"I've never been good at fitting their mould." Hannah hummed, meeting his gaze with an unwavering expression on her face.
"So, what you three geniuses stole a Porsche Cayenne and, what, decided to go on a little late-night White Castle run?" The detective asked, turning to who he assumed to be the easiest Gallagher to crack, "Come on, Ian. You do not want to do time. Not with that face."
