You ask him how it was weird. He starts to blabber again so you just start rooting through his pockets for his phone. When you've got it you stand back with your arm extended in full so you have enough space to look through his Boysenberry without worrying about him making a desperate grab for it. It takes you a while to figure out how to get to text messages but when you do you find that his inbox is cleared. You dropp his phone, at which he winces, and ask him why. He tells you that it's standard procedure for him to delete everything weekly and today was the turn over. Just perfect. So what did the text message say? He tells you it was only weird because Sour never communicated with him before. You frown and ask for details. He doesn't seem to remember anything more. He does mention that he might be able to retrieve the text message if he can take it to a tech savvy friend of his. How do you respond?
...
Rating cripple as weirder than vore and necro.
College is easier that high school if you're a philosophy major.
Priority has shifted. Psychobitch was your in before, but now, you've got someone much easier to control. You remind yourself of this by shoving him around with the muzzle of your gun a bit. You never realised how much sadistic pleasure you took in this kind of thing. (Selfnote: Threaten more often.) So you ask who else took the job, so far you know he, Lead Foot, Sour Kraut and Snowflake took the job. You know that the thing must be bigger than two demo experts, a driver and a sniper. They need someone to do the talking for them at least. Lamarcus swallows audibly before he speaks this time. He claims to know about as much as you. The person who came to him didn't tell him much. Everything he found out about the job was from Lead Foot earlier today and Sour Kraut in a weird text message. He asks you why you're so interested if you didn't take the job. You tell him [] You've changed your mind. [] You're getting revenge on them for replacing you with that psychobitch. [] You tell him nothing.
How very lewd.
But Jube complains about everything he doesn't like. Usually pretty disparagingly. People really need to know who they're talking to. Not all people are exactly the same so don't pretend they are.
Silence implies to consent in a court of law. So take her to a trial and knock her out first. Then you're down to assault and battery. And people say that I'm not helpful.
Your life is not some shoujo anime. Give her the D already.
What, Eevee not good enough for you? Doesn't try hard enough? Doesn't live up to expectations? Gotta upgrade to the newer model? Gotta make it change who it is to please you? You're a great guy. A straight capital fellow.
Just a little push and he'd be... You're not that much of a bitch. At least, you like to think that you aren't. Eh. You still don't particularly like the fellow for ignoring you all these years. So it's stick first. You interrupt his next torrent of half baked bull with a rather harsh kiss from your Beretta. Oh dear, it seems your gun is getting more action than you are. Sacrifices must be made in the name of fabulousity. You nod internally at this. He can barely move with the muzzle of your pistol digging just barely into his neck. He's started to sweat to. Perfect. Now it's time to get your business sorted. You ask very clearly this time why he decided to hide when he saw you coming. He clarifies that he didn't see you coming, he was tipped off when Leadfoot came by earlier to ask about a certain car modification. Fuck you bestie. Just fuck you. Next he explains that he knows it's no secret that you-- er-- dislike him. He even goes so far as pointing out the further evidence you've just introduced in a shape resembling a certain model of handgun. You press further in both ways available to you. He starts to lean back a bit and sweat more. Perfect. He quickly explains that he thought it would be harmless and he also heard that you'd turned down the job and he didn't want to be associated with anything that big. EVERYONE KNOWS EVERYTHING BUT YOU. YOUR GOD! He explains that a man called Hector Island came to him a the previous day in Canada and asked him to take the job. Francophone being the pussy that he is caved. He said that even though he doesn't like killing people much anymore, he was assured that the cause was something worth it and the blah blah blah. Next you ask [] What news does he have on the psychobitch? [] Who else took the job? [] What kind of phone runs AR apps?
Do your milkshakes indeed bring the boys to the yard?
Is it that the camera angles could not be worse if you just placed it on its side facing away from the action and walked away, the song, the franchise or the jerky terrible movements of the models?
Don't even remind me. It hurts too much.
Under the impression that either of these is well liked. Nope.
I was saying that it's not hard to beat the game on your own. Beat it with no shield, deprived only, final destination. Then talk about personal achievements.
Implying that's an achievement.
Implying word of god means anything to scholars. Hasn't read any Hemingway for school.
Have I ever told you that I love you and would spend the rest of my life with you if you asked? No. Because that would be too forward and awkward even for me.
