(Untitled)

[poor_grima]

My dreadlocks smell of hobbit. Winged hobbit. Singed winged hobbit. Singed bleeding from multiple wounds winged hobbit.

I'm getting my kids declawed and muzzled. ~coughs out some smoke~

Trotter! Clean.

Comments

[othertrotter]

yeth, mastah.

taps Grima on the head with his broom

Are you sure there should be a spotlight focused on us? Are we femme-y enough?

[poor_grima]

Defeatism and ooc-ness never got anyone anywhere, mon.

Coffee?

[othertrotter]

yeee~es. Not one of Erendis' pots, is it?

gets out a rag to clean out some dried blood in a corner

[poor_grima]

~shoves mug under Trotter's nose~ if it is, you'd better like it.