Six Sickles
[Oh. Hello, Template. Feeling good, are you? Enjoying your Thanksgiving? Guess what! So's Russia. Well, it looks like he's enjoying something, since he's smiling, but if you take a second look, you'd notice that it's...off. Very off. Like it doesn't quite match anything at all. Which is just how he likes it. He's humming a song, too. Tchaikovsky again. It's that time of year. There's blood on his boots, and on his coat, and he doesn't seem to notice. Much, if at all.]
[He's used to it. Every few steps, he laughs. It's okay, though. It's all okay. He just wants to play a game with them. It's not his fault they don't know the rules. It's not his fault they won't be his friends. He just wants to play baseball, like the Americans do. It's not his fault that they're ignoring him. He just hit a ball towards them with his faucet pipe, that's all. He doesn't know why they're bleeding so much. They should have ducked.]
[That's how the game's played, da?]
Anyone want to play a game? I know a lot of them! Come on! I don't bite! It'll be fun.
[He's used to it. Every few steps, he laughs. It's okay, though. It's all okay. He just wants to play a game with them. It's not his fault they don't know the rules. It's not his fault they won't be his friends. He just wants to play baseball, like the Americans do. It's not his fault that they're ignoring him. He just hit a ball towards them with his faucet pipe, that's all. He doesn't know why they're bleeding so much. They should have ducked.]
[That's how the game's played, da?]
Anyone want to play a game? I know a lot of them! Come on! I don't bite! It'll be fun.