I've had it for like ten years, dickhead, I know how to use it!
[ Okay, not ten years, but exact numbers aren't the point. He stares at Guren's hands for a moment, absolutely sulking, before finally taking them.
When he's out of the sand he looks himself over, scowling at a slice through his jacket, and tugs down the collar of his shirt to check a cut on his chest: there are a few more, and he's a little bloody, but they're superficial.
He straightens his shirt, pointlessly, and digs out his cigarettes. This dream sucks. ]
You test everybody you meet with a fuckin' sword for no reason?
no subject
[ Okay, not ten years, but exact numbers aren't the point. He stares at Guren's hands for a moment, absolutely sulking, before finally taking them.
When he's out of the sand he looks himself over, scowling at a slice through his jacket, and tugs down the collar of his shirt to check a cut on his chest: there are a few more, and he's a little bloody, but they're superficial.
He straightens his shirt, pointlessly, and digs out his cigarettes. This dream sucks. ]
You test everybody you meet with a fuckin' sword for no reason?