I don't run for all I'm worth, at first, but the little guy is quick as well as tenacious and as scary as a rogue Cactuar. When I make it to a bigger space, I almost trip over my own feet when I notice that the ceiling is clouds.
"What the fuck is up with this place!" I shout, skidding to a halt. Little dude isn't far behind, but... ceiling clouds. Seriously.
I stumble forward when he hits me and spin, the tip of my boot sending the knife spinning completely by accident. I stare at the knife. I stare at the little dude. I try not to think about the not-ceiling.
That's a... pretty creative name. But when I come from a world with people named things like Aerith working with guys named Bob, I can't really say much.
"Zack," I reply, and watch the elf scoot away. Those guys I don't think I'll ever get used to. I've killed too many things that look like them.
Finland stalked around with his usual: vodka in one hand, knife in another. He glared at the newcomer. He glares at everyone.
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I match glare for stare.
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"Mmph," he muttered, clearly unimpressed.
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"Problem, shorty?"
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Finland lunged, knife raised.
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I turn and run like a bitch.
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"What the fuck is up with this place!" I shout, skidding to a halt. Little dude isn't far behind, but... ceiling clouds. Seriously.
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"So," I say, after a minute. "Got a name?"
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"Zack," I reply, and watch the elf scoot away. Those guys I don't think I'll ever get used to. I've killed too many things that look like them.
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"So," I make the attempt. "what's up with this place?"
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