lock||load 12 [voice]
[his communication line opens just as he's scuffing one of the heels of his boots across the dirt, and slamming something metal-most likely his sword-into wood. His voice is somewhere between not caring and being slightly annoyed, because now, this is really fucking inconvenient at best. What is he supposed to do now? Mingle?]
-I hope you're going to pay for that.
-I hope you're going to pay for that.