β Β are you always this straightforward with strangers ?Β β
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β *Β βΒ π ππππ πππππππ ππππππππ ππππππππ.
β Yuh. β
A single word, huffed out, spoke a thousand more. Roadhog didnβt see the need to elaborate; he was a man of stout vocabulary, though his tongue was curt.
Roadhog had seen this man before. Not in any semblance of a real-life exchangeβno, this was the first time theyβd exchanged words, let alone paths. Indeed, being steeped deep and brewing in the criminal underworld made it easy to overhear conspiracies, oversee faces plastered upon walls. Roadhog knew the man before was the same man heβd seen some months earlier, clung to a wall, with a considerable sum of money loomed overhead. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember the name scrawled upon the parchment. Regardless, he mustβve either done something drastic or pissed off the wrong people.
In spite of the translucent, glassy veils, his gaze lunged forth with all the sharpness of a whetted blade. Truth be told, it was generally how Roadhog looked; but to those unacquainted, it might seem like he was ready to dip a knife deep into their squishy innards. Similarly did silence bespeak a simple, though baleful phrase.
Donβt make me ask again.














