Spikemuth's Marnie

She’s completely stone-faced, as ever.

She grabbed his arm, pulling against it.

“FUCKIN’ MAKE ME!!!”

“I can, what’s it to ya? Y’gonna stop me?”

She’s standing on a roof in Motostoke, periodically blaring air horns.

“A knife made out of...” She pulls a switchblade from her boot and pops it out, tapping the blade like a doctor does a needle. “Steel, I’d guess? And plastic? Maybe some rubber?”

“Kill ya with a knife most likely. Maybe a big rock.”

“What’s not the same... What?”

“‘m gonna kill ya. Then kill ya again.”

“Yeah all right good point... Evil as a biodegradable packin’ peanut. Stupid, though.”

“Guess I am technically the leader of an ‘evil team’. Yell’s about as evil as a packin’ peanut, though.”

Marnie’s sitting on the stage in Spikemuth, swinging her legs and eating a can of icing with a spoon. It says “Piers” in very large, obvious, impossible to miss writing on the can.

“Good to know we’ve got something in common, but the presumed reason is probably different.”

She just silently stares at them.

“One of my favourite things to do is imply I killed someone. Nobody knows if it’s a joke or not.”