( i can't do this alone. )

   “You just wish that was even half true.”

          "Nice ego you got there."

"Y’look ticked off.." He’s calm, as always. Silently reading the woman before him to figure out whether or not it’s wise to start a conversation.

         "So you decided to start talkin' to me. Right."

She has it in her to snort, and she reaches to take that drink right out of his hands. If he's going to bother her, she's drinking his stuff.

              "What?"

    “Not exactly, but I figured ‘cause you’ve got a nice style about yourself you’d be able to gimme some advice on this—” he gestures to his overal outfit, “— as well.” A pause follows. “Right. No patterns then. Thanks. So, uh— what’s your name?”

         "Fetch." No point hiding her identity. If he tells anybody her description, they'll probably point him directly to that one Conduit that spends most of her time hanging around with the bannerman. She's lost the luxury of being an unknown sniper, terrorizing Seattle in her quest to make things right. But he doesn't need to hear that story.

There was a grunt of laughter and a fake look of pain crosses his face as he looks at her. He loves this side of her, the fun side.

         ”I have no idea what you mean.”

       ❝Well if that’s not a wound to the ego,                  then I don’t know what is.❞

          "You're not gonna cry, are ya?" 

"Okay okay. So I havent got the timing down right.           I’ll work on it for next time.”

"Whatever, nerd. Don’t be jelly of my puns"

“Really? I’ve found that it quite suits me.”

"Oh come on. That was pure genius.      Seriously. I crack myself up.”

Send a ✗ and my muse will react to being called a monster.

          "Have you seen yourself?                  Hypocrisy's pretty ugly on you, y'know."