[oh god it's that guy in the red undies again, what does he want. He's looking down into the communicator as he speaks, and passing trees overhead say that he's walking. Somewhere. Somewhere green and lovely.]
I've got a question, and this seemed like the place to ask it. It's a quick one, though, I promise.
How many of you fight for fun?
[He
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Several. And there's a wonderful Irish pub at [insert address]. They serve just about everything one could want.
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It's what I do.
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What are you doing in Pittsburgh?
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Why not, if you don't mind?
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I don't like to fight for sport or exhibition, or anything like that. I only want to fight when there's a good reason and there's no other options.
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Duly noted. It'd be nice if this were the popular opinion, it seems like a pretty reasonable one.
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--if it still exists in this universe, I mean.
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Anyway, what's up in Pittsburgh?
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[He glances to the side with the question] A woman walking her dog. It looks part pitt bull. [a smile and a wave following that one, presumably directed at said woman and dog.] And a few blocks back, a skating ramp on its last legs and a few aspiring skateboarders. [so informative, Supes.]
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Why, looking for a fight?
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Can you really see me looking for a fight?
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Could be interesting, though.
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