ITP: Hamburgers. Eventually.
[Today in the middle of a field is a rare sight: a fancy-pants marquis not wearing his fancy-pants, nor his fancy-anything. Instead he is wearing only a pair of slacks, a well-fitting undershirt, and about three buckets of blood -- elbows deep in gore and in the process of butchering a cow]
((oh, um, gore warning, I guess, for cow-butchering? If you don't want me to mention any gross cow things and just want to talk to David, just let me know! ;3;b
ETA: And I'm out for the night. Thank you everyone! ♥
((oh, um, gore warning, I guess, for cow-butchering? If you don't want me to mention any gross cow things and just want to talk to David, just let me know! ;3;b
ETA: And I'm out for the night. Thank you everyone! ♥