しかばね

For his own pathetic dreams of bigger and better guns, Laz had been willing to die, and had figured no one would miss him much. Mark, however, was still a child. Even if he similarly had nobody who'd miss him, he had a good head on his shoulders and a life worth living, so bringing him was and still is completely out of the question.

But those morose thoughts have led him to silence in the face of a question. Composing himself, he releases a chuckle through his teeth, then replies with his usual sense of grandeur. "Keh-heh... I only have about twenty on my person, since I had to travel lightly."

That is, of course, taking into account the fact that most of the guns he hadn't chosen to bring were smaller handguns and pistols. Because of that, the difference in weight really isn't all that much, though Laz's walking isn't labored at all.

"It's only natural to carry so many with me. Even a perfect marksman would be foolish to only bring one gun, but I've always preferred quantity over quality." In other words, he's not the best shot in the world in a pinch, so firing blindly tends to be his first resort when he's in stressful situations. He glances back at Nice, almost as if making sure she hadn't caught his double meaning. "Normally I'd limit myself to around ten for stealth missions, but those guys have enough firepower that I've got a reason to be worried."

He returns to looking forward, squinting his eyes to catch an unnatural color through the trees. The black car is less obvious at night, but the moonlight still reflects off it enough that Laz can see it, even though he's sometimes struggled to see clearly ever since that incident in 1932. He motions in front of him with one hand.

"That is part of what I admire about my bombs. In situations like this, I greatly value the quantity of indiscriminate destruction contained in each shell... though with the proper mixture, one doesn't need to sacrifice quality either." Circling the car, Nice brushes her fingers across the gleaming bonnet on her way past. She gives a rueful laugh as she hunts in the dark for the handle of the passenger door. "Maybe if I could become a perfect marksman like you say, I would feel differently. My aim is less than reliable."

She says that like she was ever less bomb-crazy even when her vision was excellent. Splash damage is simply her modus operandi.

Opening the door, she peers at Mr. Smith's indistinct figure through the glass of the driver's side window. A frown creases her brow; it occurs that neither of them is perhaps suited for the kind of stealth mission that this escapade must require. When by herself, she was hoping to cause loud, conspicuous distractions somewhere far from her point of entry – at least as far as she could run before the fuse of a cherry bomb burnt down. It wasn't what anyone could call a well-constructed plan.

Nice climbs into the car with as much prim aplomb as she can muster while looking so disheveled from their escape, heaving a sigh. "I admit it's a relief to be away safely, but I have learned just how unprepared I was to attack that facility. Also – I don't know about you, but I was angling to break in from below, and they will have ascertained as much by now. Who knows what fortifications they may add."

A wind rustles the woods, blurring a patchwork of moonlight and shadow across the windscreen. Distracted from her lament, Nice squints, trying to identify if there's even a track through the woods ahead.

Neither bombs nor bullets are an infinite resource. I know exactly how many loaded guns I'm carrying, but I can't be sure about this lady's bombs.

He attempts to keep an imposing air about him as he continues their conversation. It's not exactly his best effort, considering the nerves that have been reignited in him, but he's not laying his cards bare either. After so much time, he's a master at very little other than keeping his facade intact. That and guns, but the guns are always a given with him.

"My name isn't important. But you can call me Gunmeister Smith. The rightful owner of the weaponry they're keeping stocked over there," he jerks his head towards the building, wearing a prideful smirk, then finally reaches out to accept her offer with a brief handshake, "or at least the only person in the world who knows how to properly appreciate it. I won't let ordinary men have that sort of machinery, let alone use it. My insanity could put it to much more fulfilling work."

He chuckles, then turns towards the dark he'd come from. His car, he knows, is waiting for him on the other side of the moderately wooded area, and he wonders if Nice had brought her own transportation or if she happened to live closer to the location than him.

"You got a getaway plan? I have a car with me."

The worried little voice in her head always sounds a lot like Jacuzzi, which is why she has to push back a feeling of disobedient guilt when she completely ignores it. Catching a ride sounds like a better use of her time than trudging back to the tracks and waiting for a freight train she can hop, and it'll get her away from here faster. Besides, Nice doesn't mind a little bit of danger, or she wouldn't be here in the first place.

She does, however, draw the line at suicidal. Turning her back dismissively on the lights of the compound, she grins at her new ally. "Gunmeister, is it? I can understand that level of dedication. I'm not sure I would call it insanity, myself..." her voice trails off, as she once again tries to assess whether Mr. Smith means that sincerely. Then again, she knows people she would call clinically, categorically insane, but she'd still rob a bank with some of them.

Either way, Mr. Smith carries himself with a gravitas that she can't quite decipher, at least not in the dark. Though it's too late, she wonders if she should have been more careful about giving her real name. She has a habit of plunging into things without thinking beforehand; Jacuzzi is usually there to admonish her into sensible behavior before she goes too far, and he's always been the better judge of people.

Just as well he's not here, since Nice needs Mr. Smith's help to get those bombs, and she won't stop until they're in her hands, whether the man is a genuine lunatic or not. Shrugging off her own negligence, she waves an assenting hand. "If you have room for me, then I will gladly accept a ride."

As they begin to walk, she does decide to keep a cautious distance between them, ensuring he isn't on her blind side. She still can't see him well in the moonlight patches through which they pass, but she can hear a faint clanking noise that matches his steady stride – metal clashing against metal. It's coming from beneath the heavy bulk of his trench coat.

It's meant to sound cool, but in the silence of the night and no dramatic cut-away, it just peters off, a line said just for the sake of it. In reality, Laz had probably been more terrified than this woman of the scene they'd both fled from in trying to infiltrate that place. That said, his will is generally pretty strong, so he likely would attempt to steal from them another time despite his general ineffectiveness as a person.

Not ineffective. I saved a life, after all. It's the opposite of what madmen are meant to do, but... I can't exactly scoff at that sort of thing, privately. I actually saved someone's life today, and not just by sparing them.

That fact is probably what had fueled his comment, which sounded a little more prideful than his usual one-liners, though that also isn't saying much. Those were also usually filled with pride, though it tended to be more misplaced than this specific instance.

"They have something extremely valuable to me. I don't intend to let it slip through my fingers. I'm not so much of a lunatic that I'd pass up on rare opportunities like this." He's talking, of course, about the array of military-grade firearms stockpiled by this particular company. Though he's heard tell of them storing other things here, he doesn't have any interest in anything but those guns. If he could get his hands on them (or, more specifically, the parts they're made of), he'd undoubtedly be able to improve them tenfold.

That's only if, though.

Something about this man (specifically, the unspecified but impressive number of guns he's presumably holstered under that trench coat) indicates that he's probably not serving as competition for the object of Nice's second-strongest devotion. Though she supposes she could – begrudgingly – share if she had to. "My aim is the results of their tests on silver heptaphenolate and pentaerythritol nitrotoluene. Can you even imagine the detonation velocity that could generate? I don't often play with high explosives – I can't phlegmatize and cast them myself, I don't have the facilities, but –" catching her breath, Nice bounces slightly on the balls of her feet, too excited to keep still. "But they do."

Her enthusiasm flickers as the edge of a searchlight glances past, casting reflected light up against the man's indistinct face. He's right – it'll take some time to mount another assault, and the place will be even more guarded the second time around.

And yet, this wasn't a vain attempt after all. Nice has been through enough to know the volatile power that follows coincidence; she's not going to turn away a partner in crime who just about fell from the sky into her burglary. "I think, sir, that you may have a point. For tonight, we both have to withdraw, but... perhaps together we can devise a trick to get past those guards. Without being shot at."

Though maybe he likes being shot at. He does have a lot of guns. And he did call himself a lunatic, though she hesitates to take him seriously. Damn her miserable eyeball that can't read anything off another person's face.

❛  are we actually doing the right thing?  ❜ ❛  are you bleeding?  ❜ ❛  are you even sorry?  ❜ ❛  are you still mad at me?  ❜ ❛  are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own?  ❜ ❛  can’t we just be friends again?  ❜ ❛  can we pretend this never happened?  ❜ ❛  can you help me with this?  ❜ ❛  didn’t you listen to what i just said?  ❜ ❛  did you ever even love me?  ❜ ❛  don’t you believe me?  ❜ ❛  do you trust me?  ❜ ❛  do you understand what that means?  ❜ ❛  do you want to talk about it?  ❜ ❛  haven’t you heard the news?  ❜ ❛  have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself?  ❜ ❛  how did you do that?  ❜ ❛  how will i ever be able to repay you?  ❜ ❛  is it my fault?  ❜ ❛  is there anything i can do for you?  ❜ ❛  was all of this just a lie?  ❜ ❛  we’re gonna survive this, right?  ❜ ❛  what are you doing here?  ❜ ❛  what do you want from me?  ❜ ❛  what have you done to them?  ❜ ❛  what makes you think i’m going to help you?  ❜ ❛  when was the last time you ate something?  ❜ ❛  when will it stop?  ❜ ❛  when will you ever grow up?  ❜ ❛  where were you last night?  ❜ ❛  who did this to you?  ❜ ❛  who the hell are you?  ❜ ❛  why can’t you just let it go?  ❜ ❛  why didn’t you tell me sooner?  ❜ ❛  why did you leave me?  ❜ ❛  why don’t you come home with me?  ❜ ❛  why would you do something like that?  ❜ ❛  will you call me when you got there safely?  ❜ ❛  will you please tell me what happened?  ❜ ❛  will you stop doing that?  ❜

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ 

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜ 

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜ 

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

EVEN IF HE WASN'T SURE of the connection between the young woman && huey, her answer comes as little surprise to elmer. he recognizes that expression, the stoic, unwavering narrowing of eyes. she looks so much like him, && elmer doesn't consider himself a sentimental man, but it's hard to not be flooded with memories when he looks at her now.

he's her father. this is huey's daughter.

if it were possible to do so, elmer's smile widens. he takes a few steps closer to her, even less afraid now. he saw that shift in expression, the way her eyes widened, && the straightforwardness with which she answered, even silently. it doesn't faze him that she apparently can't speak ; he's watching her face too closely to miss those words. && though there's not a smile there, elmer's keen eyes spot the fondness with which she speaks of huey.

Which is annoying. Her guard is down too far already to be so ill-prepared for this man's next movements.

At least she catches that moment of hesitation when he mentions Huey's family. As far as Chané is aware, she makes up one hundred percent of that category. She supposes she has a mother (someone who's always existed as a vague biological necessity in the back of her mind, but nothing more). Huey has no need for anyone like that, even her. Unless... what?

Smiling his usual smile again, Elmer C. Albatross gives her a notepad. Relief makes her almost tear it from his hands since she's absolutely bursting with things to ask, to say, to tell him about Huey and hear about Huey and – a frown touches her brow – about him, about Elmer, as well. Curiosity is spilling through the gaps in her iron shell.

Chané Laforet, she writes, her first words careful and neat, blurring into rough cursive as her questions pick up speed. Every time she weakens enough to speak through writing, she seems to have difficulty stemming the rush of words, all bottled up inside for so long. How do you know him? When did you last see him? Is your body like his? (she's still not rash enough to mention immortality directly.) What do you know about the Lemures' plan? Could you –

A distant snap of noise stills her pen, creating a blot on the paper. Ears pricked, Chané glances up at Elmer, assessing the relaxed contour of his stance as he peers over the top of the notepad to look at her words upside-down. That gunshot wasn't close, but if they get attacked, she isn't sure she can defend them both. He doesn't look like a fighter, though appearances deceive, especially in immortals.

THE KNIFE POINTED AT HIM doesn't faze elmer ; it's not he first time he's been threatened && it won't be the last, though he's fairly certain that this woman isn't going to hurt him. not that she couldn't — she certainly seems just as dangerous as the other people he's met over his very long life — but for whatever reason, he's pretty sure he isn't her intended target.

the rambling words that fall from his mouth, stretched wide in a smile that doesn't fit the atmosphere, are more for his benefit than anything else ( though elmer's always found talking useful. most of the time, people just tune him out. sometimes, though, his words manage to get through to them. && maybe there's a part of him that thinks that might work here. )

"it's just," he goes on, willfully oblivious to the danger in front of him, "one single train with at least four different groups of people, i think i counted, who all presumably want different things? how am i supposed to make all of them smile at once? it's a real conundrum!"

as he chatters on, it almost seems as if he's oblivious to the resemblance the woman bears to his best friend. after all — if he has noticed, why hasn't he said anything?

&& then —

The smile doesn't fade (how is he keeping it like that? It's like an inverted reflection of her own stony blankness, a facade held deliberately in place), and his words keep tumbling brightly out. First – she was wrong about the man's ignorance, he clearly has some idea of the danger, but four groups on the train is a bit much. She's counted two at best, if one can even consider the white-suited maniacs a serious contender for relevance. They certainly do want something, but the few she's encountered haven't been strong enough to buy any time to explain themselves. Thus far, they seem more of an inconvenience than a threat.

Maybe that shouldn't be the part she focuses on. Almost against her will, she echoes the words, tongue curling into the semblance of an incredulous hiss – all of them smile at once?

(Is that supposed to include her?)

And then that doesn't matter anymore, because he puts Huey's name out into the cool air of the corridor – recognizes Huey in her – and it takes the span of one ragged breath, her eyes widening, for her to make the connection.

No, it must be an unimaginably slim chance that this man and the person her father mentioned... but he knows Huey. A Huey from before she was alive. And the man doesn't look that old.

The effort she expends to maintain her frozen glare, showing no hint of the turmoil roiling within her, is maybe what breaks down her other defenses. It should be impossible to pull information about Huey from her speechless lips; that is the central, fundamental point of her silence. In this case, though – this one question – she decides there can't be any threat in answering it, even to a man who might be another immortal. She, herself, cannot be used to harm Huey; he wouldn't care if she died this instant. As Chané brings an explanatory hand to her larynx, she mouths her answer as clearly as she can. My father. He's my father.

"---Listen, all I'm saying is, if you're gonna stumble in to somebody else's cool moment, you should really warn them before you do it. I was really excited for this! I ironed my outfit this morning and everything!"

Said outfit is blood-covered and in tatters now, but Vigilante doesn't show any outward reaction of pain; the blood isn't his, and he only took a couple of scratches. It's pretty much impossible to escape a fight entirely unscathed against that kind of mafia goon, but he's come pretty close.

Due in part to the intervention of a nearby pedestrian. Probably not a pedestrian, actually, judging by the knives and the way she'd jumped right into the actions when all the mafia goons assumed she was showing up to back him up and started going after her too.

If there weren't an extremely strangely designed mask covering his face, Vigilante's annoyance would have shown in more than just his words.

What with the thoughts of tattoos and burn scars drifting through her mind, she expects to see some vulnerable innocent caught helpless by a couple of thieves. She does not expect to see a guy in a weird mask easily fending off what looks like half the local thug population.

Whether or not he actually needs any help, Chané is begrudgingly forced to draw her knives when she sees the flash of a revolver turn her way. This is probably why, when they're the only ones left standing and his harassed voice snaps out through the strange mask, she considers running him through as well. She didn't ask to get involved, and here he is telling her she ruined his moment.

Sounds almost like something someone she knows would say.

Though she glares at the mask, wondering what might be behind it, the transparent tone of his voice sinks in – he's genuinely upset about her interruption. That's familiar as well, and Chané sighs internally. It's apparently her destiny to constantly encounter people who treat fighting for their lives like the world's most delightful sport.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 .

❛  i may be a child, but... i'm not here to play around, you know.  ❜

❛  do you really think an excuse like that will work? ❜

❛ if i told you to kill someone, could you kill them?   ❜

❛  unfortunately, i am not kind.  ❜

❛  you're like a fantastically, magnificently crazed angel.  ❜

❛  that blade is your compañero — your partner.  ❜

❛  as a favor to this wacky young guy who believed in my skills and asked me to, i came here to kill you!  ❜

❛  i want to wait here a little longer, just a little longer.  ❜

❛  calm down, please... are you all right? what on earth happened here?  ❜

❛  i don't think i deserve that vengeful glare you're giving me.  ❜

❛  here i went to all that trouble to save you, and you don't grateful at all.  ❜

❛  that glare you're giving me is far, far more real than the earlier one. that's not just hate. that's real anger, mixed with the fear of losing something.  ❜

❛  you lack concentration. you're neglecting your training; that's why these things happen.  ❜

❛  i wonder.... if this is a sort of karma laid down for us immortals. ❜

❛  show a little gratitude, would you?  ❜

❛  in other words, you're a failure.  ❜

❛  you exist just to get exploited.  ❜

❛  you wanted to know whether, just maybe, you would find joy in stealing and destroying what others had built up.  ❜

❛  and? how was it? how did it feel to steal what they worked so hard to create?  ❜

❛  is it even possible to get over the past or give up emotions by yourself?  ❜

❛  people have the power to get rid of sorrow and pain by themselves.  ❜

❛  no wonder he managed to steal my heart with such panache before i even noticed!  ❜

❛  long story short... they're our sacrificial pawns.  ❜

❛  do you believe in ties that can never be cut, no matter how badly people are wounded or how much pain they're in?  ❜

❛  i want to believe there are things that will never, ever break, no matter how much pain someone takes, or how badly they're wounded.  ❜

❛  someday, i'm sure somebody will hurt and break me too, you know? i'm prepared for that.  ❜

❛  the folks behind me are my friends, and you can just ignore them.  ❜

❛  i'll get right to the point — do you people want to become immortal?  ❜

❛  i think this is probably going to hurt a lot, so i'll apologize now! i'm sorry!  ❜

❛  why did ____ start saying complicated stuff all of a sudden?  ❜

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .

❛ you never put your life on the line, so there's no way you could know how i feel! ❜

❛  i wanted to find a new friend in this new town.  ❜

❛  those guys were planning to get rid of you fellas from the very beginning.  ❜

❛  if i wasn't telling you this stuff, you'd have been on your way to the afterlife before you even knew what hit you.  ❜

❛  she don't look like it, but she's a monster who's killed lots of people.  ❜

❛  she's got nothing to do with this.  ❜

❛  whatever happens to you, it's no skin of my nose.  ❜

❛  we're a band of psychotic weirdos.  ❜

❛  it's okay. don't you worry about a thing. i'm here.  ❜

❛  i won't let 'em lay a finger on your friends.  ❜

❛  i hate troublesome stuff. let's just be direct here.  ❜

❛  no matter what you're planning, now that i'm here, there won't be any problems. ❜

❛  no matter what a snot-nosed kid like you tries to hide from me, i seriously doubt it could damage my life.  ❜

❛  so if you want to use me, you just go right ahead. because i'm gonna use you right back.  ❜

❛  long story short — i can do anything.  ❜

❛  i don't really have to explain this situation, do i?  ❜

❛  see, right now, i seriously have no idea what to do.  ❜

❛  that twisted bastard loves watching people suffer.  ❜

❛  the death of a good friend. in life, that sorrow is a wall everyone must overcome someday. you can't stay sad forever.  ❜

❛  the state of your brain makes me sadder than anything.  ❜

❛  what am i to you?  ❜

❛  no matter how many friends i make after this, i seriously doubt i could make a better friend than you.  ❜

❛  if i disobeyed ____, would you kill me?  ❜

❛  in a way, ____ deserves respect for having raised you to be this twisted.  ❜

❛  you're curious about that group, aren't you?  ❜

❛  you're a 'friend' i can't manage to shake.  ❜

❛  it's a little late to worry about the impression we're making on people, you know?  ❜

❛  you're trying to finish this job up with a bang and boost your confidence.  ❜

❛  although i don't get 'feelings', i do kinda understand 'emotions'.  ❜

❛  didn't you ever think i might be tricking you?  ❜

❛  right now, we'll cling to any power that will keep us alive.  ❜

❛  as long as you're alive, you can make a comback.  ❜

❛  i mean, compared with me, 99.99999 percent of the world is weak.  ❜

❛  someday i'm going to cut you down, too.  ❜

❛  i was just surprised. that's incredible. you can be proud of that. i'm almost never surprised.   ❜

❛  if it were fine, they wouldn't have gotten kidnapped in the first place, right?  ❜

❛  how do you want me to answer that?  ❜

❛  i keep myself from knowing the future.  ❜

❛  i told you i l'd learned all sorts of things about you, remember? i know everything about you.  ❜

❛  tell me of the world you wish for, of all the malice you hold toward this world.  ❜

❛  welcome to dreamland — but it's nightmares only.  ❜

❛  i'll be your hostage.  ❜

❛  i apologize for temping you.  ❜

❛  even empty bravado is impressive when you take it that far.  ❜

❛  i was the one who should have died, so... i'm paying for that.  ❜

❛  looks like you underestimated us.  ❜

❛  nature can be so whimsical. that's why i love it.  ❜

❛ i bet you didn't think i was watching the scenery reflected in your eyes, did you? ❜

❛  god might actually love you.  ❜

❛  there's no god anywhere in the world. the only one's inside me.  ❜

❛  i get to retire from being a loser a lot faster than you losers.  ❜

❛  i couldn't... think of any way to protect ____ other than killing. that's all it was.  ❜

❛  you're a bigger scumbag than i thought you were.  ❜

❛ i think the world's pretty small — but that does mean it's pretty deep, doesn't it? ❜

❛  i'm sorry. please take your anger out on me.   ❜

❛  when i look at you, i think i can sense family ties, just a little... i'm going to use them, though... i'm sorry.  ❜

❛  right now, i think i almost understand what you're feeling.  ❜

❛  i've had folks say they'd curse me more than a hundred times.  ❜

❛  it's up to you whether we're friends or lovers!  ❜

❛  i didn't come here to listen to you whine.  ❜

❛  you remembered my name. although i don't remember ever telling you what it was...  ❜

❛  do you intend to bury my life in tedium?  ❜

❛  if i were to sum up your existence in one word, it would be — cheater.  ❜

❛  those words are true, but not the whole truth. isn't that right?  ❜

❛  if we're discussing jails, i've been in one for several centuries already.  ❜

❛  i wouldn't make too light of humans if i were you.  ❜

❛  that information doesn't make me the least bit happy.  ❜

❛  i'm someone neither god nor the government will forgive.  ❜

❛  being nameless is good enough.  ❜