gnzma:
He lets out a small “tsk”, feeling the hands moved in his pockets clench in annoyance. Are we really at it? Sharing your mom jokes?
Man, San is right. He sure isn’t feeling it today.
“Look, having to deal with ya is always super fun, huh? Really.” he snaps back, taking a step closer. Feeling his palms itch, and yet refraining himself.
Everyone knows just idiots throw the first punch.
“But y’know what? I’m really not in the mood to deal with backstabbing pieces of shit, so be a good boy and fuck off, will ya?”
He can almost sense the agitation rising in Guzma, see it in the way he stands. Like an uncultured swine, as always, that sluggish stance never great to think about nor witness. He would happily walk away any other day after perhaps a battle or the likes, but today he’s out for revenge and so shall he take it in any way it can come.
“No.” He simply states, head dipping forwards.
He wants to attack so badly. Like a dog off of a leash he’s ready to leap forwards and sink his teeth into the man’s arm, so to speak anyway. He isn’t so low as to bite another. But the thought still remains, the similarities between him and a dog all too clear in his head. Usually he awaits the command of his two superiors before launching forth to rip someone apart with his machete - which he treasures enough to have left at home.
“Come on, Skull-boy. Show me you are worthy of being called such. A great leader of a band of fools! All under your heel. Perhaps you’re just so lonely in reality. I mean, look at you!”
He gestures around.
“All fucking alone here. I was hoping to take down a few of your followers with you.”
