you have got to be fucking kidding me

[reapyourshitup]

You know, there are some nice things to be said for living on your own in a hut in the Hidden Hamlet. Aside from the cheesy as hell name, and the sometimes cheesy as hell neighbors (Anne of Avonlea and the little fucking mermaid are fucking next door? What the fuck is that shit?), it's nice. Cozy, quiet, and mercifully lacking in one George Lass

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[fights4britain]

"See, now there's a reason why niggers shouldn't be allowed to have guns," Trevor drawled lazily with a small smile. "Your lot are so fucking wasteful, it's fucking stupid." Which, if he so chose to do so, was arguably a fair thing to say considering the circumcircumstances. After all, the idiot was wasting bullets, and he was showing her the error of her ways. But with words.

"You know what you should do? Give the gun to me. I'll have it for safe keeping, and you won't make an arse of yourself for shooting inanimate objects."

See? He was being helpful.

[reapyourshitup]

Of course. Of. Fucking. Course.

I don't give the gun to him. I cock the gun and turn it on him, my expression unchanging, unamused, unimpressed. My eyes are dead, and maybe that would be clever considering I once was too (am still? will be again?).

I'm not going to respond. He'll just find a way to turn it around, to frustrate and annoy. Because that's what fuckers like him do.

[fights4britain]

Trevor, to say the least, didn't look very concernced, nor did he look impressed. If a nigger bitch with a gun pointed at him was supposed to get him all jumpy and scared for his well being, then he wasn't very much good to his nation or to his cause, now was he?

"If you're going to shoot me, go ahead. I really don't give a fuck, it'd end up looking bad for you in the end anyhow."

[reapyourshitup]

He might have a point there. But it's a slim 'might', since only the most bleeding heart of liberals would have any sympathy for this fucker, and most bleeding heart liberals would be his target. Besides, it's not like they can do all that much to me, other than throw me in a cell with that crazy 'magic' fucker. I could probably even plead that it was self-defense against a hate crime. Not like we have security cameras or any of that bullshit set up.

What stills my finger is the fact that I don't have a post-it. He isn't meant to die, not as far as I know, not yet. And while he's annoying as fuck, a fucking graveling would be worse. So I sit my ass back down at the table, gun still aimed at him, elbow propped up on the wood, and silently pick at my fruit.

[fights4britain]

Trevor was actually patient when he chose to be, and it was usually when he was busy getting under somones skin. There was something so incredibly satisfying about walking along that little line of human emotion that builds up and swells with frustration and anger, forcing them to act as he always felt the need to do himself. The burning in his belly and chest that made him want to do so much, he loved seeing it in the rest of the wankers who made life such crap.

"What? That's disappointing, don't you got enough in you to do nothing?" He smirked and made a show of coming closer, a taunting dance in his step as he circled around, eyes on her own and ignoring the weapon entriely.

[reapyourshitup]

I'm tempted to snark back. I'm tempted to pick through that double negative and explain that he's making himself sound like an uneducated fuck. But I'm not going to. I know his type. He gets his rocks off on making people react. And I've spent the last twenty years not reacting. I can do this if I want to. And I want to. And I can always walk away.

But right now I'm eating dinner. I keep my eyes away from him, focusing on my plate or on blank space. My gun stays aimed in his direction though.