[ he drums his nails against the back of the chair, considering - it's not subtle. it's like he's deciding whether or not to lie. ]
... The Run is a piss-stink town that's as awash with blood as it is with mud. It's got four seasons: Winter, Wet Winter, Bit o' Spring and Pigshite. There's no laws, but plenty of rules, and it eats anyone who dares to step into range of its dagger-sharp teeth. It loves chewing up orphans and drunks and endebted gamblers and especially those who think they're too clever to get taken in by its great lie: here, you can be anything. You can't. You'll always just be a streetrat from the Run.
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[ he drums his nails against the back of the chair, considering - it's not subtle. it's like he's deciding whether or not to lie. ]
... The Run is a piss-stink town that's as awash with blood as it is with mud. It's got four seasons: Winter, Wet Winter, Bit o' Spring and Pigshite. There's no laws, but plenty of rules, and it eats anyone who dares to step into range of its dagger-sharp teeth. It loves chewing up orphans and drunks and endebted gamblers and especially those who think they're too clever to get taken in by its great lie: here, you can be anything. You can't. You'll always just be a streetrat from the Run.
So of course, thank the gods I wasn't born there.
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[ if she had even an inkling of a sense of humor she could run with this, alas. she is dead serious. ]
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[ honestly mildly amused she is Refusing to acknowledge this. ]
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You don't have to feed me a bullshit answer. Coulda just said no.
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[ he just has that vibe. ]