It's hard to tell what pisses you off more: that, or the way they're calling Pheres baby boy like he's theirs. (Or like he's some sort of fucking mammal pet.) Maybe the anger churning in your digestion sack is irrational, but you don't think so. Riccin's doing this to set you off, and guess what, it's fucking working.
You hate them so much, and there's nothing romantic about it. If Marduk doesn't turn up soon, you'll make the drive your damn self - and a whole lot of people are going to get fucking culled.
"An hour," you say, keeping your voice pointedly flat. Riccin's desperate for attention, has been ever since you first lost interest sweeps and sweeps ago: they might know you, but you know them as well as the scar on your face. You give them so much as an inch and they'll run a mile.
So the only thing you can do is give them nothing at fucking all.
"Maybe two? If you'd just stop being a huge bitch-"
It's easier said than done.
You sink your claws into your arm and dig in, until the shivers reverberating through your body are from pain instead of - (not fear, never fear) - nerves, right. You have got to calm the fuck down. It's striking you that Pheres is quiet as the dead in the background, and you know how fucked up Riccin is: you made it clear that touching your quads in the future, ex or current, would get their chump-ass culled, but it'd be just your luck they decide, hey! Maybe things are different and try again.
Deep breath.
"If he's calm, he should stop sparking," you say, exhaling slowly. Calm and steady as a fucking rock, that's you. "As much. Shit isn't gonna stop completely for awhile."
no subject
Gross.
It's hard to tell what pisses you off more: that, or the way they're calling Pheres baby boy like he's theirs. (Or like he's some sort of fucking mammal pet.) Maybe the anger churning in your digestion sack is irrational, but you don't think so. Riccin's doing this to set you off, and guess what, it's fucking working.
You hate them so much, and there's nothing romantic about it. If Marduk doesn't turn up soon, you'll make the drive your damn self - and a whole lot of people are going to get fucking culled.
"An hour," you say, keeping your voice pointedly flat. Riccin's desperate for attention, has been ever since you first lost interest sweeps and sweeps ago: they might know you, but you know them as well as the scar on your face. You give them so much as an inch and they'll run a mile.
So the only thing you can do is give them nothing at fucking all.
"Maybe two? If you'd just stop being a huge bitch-"
It's easier said than done.
You sink your claws into your arm and dig in, until the shivers reverberating through your body are from pain instead of - (not fear, never fear) - nerves, right. You have got to calm the fuck down. It's striking you that Pheres is quiet as the dead in the background, and you know how fucked up Riccin is: you made it clear that touching your quads in the future, ex or current, would get their chump-ass culled, but it'd be just your luck they decide, hey! Maybe things are different and try again.
Deep breath.
"If he's calm, he should stop sparking," you say, exhaling slowly. Calm and steady as a fucking rock, that's you. "As much. Shit isn't gonna stop completely for awhile."