â no, makes me feel less. â
     the silence bleeds out between and before them like many things have. ( many people. blood on blood on blood and itâs such a bitch to get out. )  it bleeds until itâs dead; gone, faded from existence. it bleeds and russo smiles, the smallest twitch of a smile.Â
         âapparently, killing is frowned upon,â he states, deadpan and no shift in his expression either which way. ward doesnât move, doesnât have a tell. âeven when itâs called for.â 129 confirmed kills, but that doesnât count everybody outside of the war. it doesnât count the people heâs had strings on and the ones heâs plucked until they screamed. it doesnât count the castle family because thatâs on him, even when his finger wasnât on the trigger. âyouâd think it ââÂ
   it doesnât count â
        âno, makes me feel less.â ward answers, like he knows what billy was thinking, and maybe he does. because a killer is still a killer, no matter the shade you wear or the shadows you hide behind. justified or not. you drop a man, youâre not the same.Â
         âmm,â he hums. feel less, he says, and billy canât relate, not quite -- not really; see, because when was the last time he felt anything at all? âfunny how that works, hm?â
â« meme. ; @killshield












