[ Helmet's back on. That mean they're going for Round Two? Sharkface just snickers, feeling blood caked in his nose. Running down his throat. It's like swallowing pennies, cloying and too-sweet. He feels insane, twitchy. Fielding a fever and the adrenaline dump in turn, tension ratcheted up. His pulse is drumming in his throat.
Not good. Really, not good at all.
Sharkface snorts. ]
Enlighten me, motherfucker.
[ He rocks back on his heels to disguise the knife he grabs. Yet another. He has a feeling this will swing predictable in the end. ]
no subject
Not good. Really, not good at all.
Sharkface snorts. ]
Enlighten me, motherfucker.
[ He rocks back on his heels to disguise the knife he grabs. Yet another. He has a feeling this will swing predictable in the end. ]