[25.00: Weapons gone]

[psychoticracer]

[A bump and rustle. Seems as though the comm got turned on accidentally.

The tap of fingers drumming restlessly, quick and uneven, as if the nervous energy gets away from him now and then. He starts to mutter, his Noble accent coming through thick]

Mardammit sonova goddamn bitch, let me have 'em while I can't fucking use 'em, swear to fucking

Comments

[sandpaperbreath]

[Rough, nasty laughter.]

[psychoticracer]

You.

You just wait.

Don't have a stand-in taking your medicine on your behalf anymore.

[sonotyourdog]

Keh, even if you can find something to be creative with~

[psychoticracer]

Oh Mardamn, surely you jest~

Table legs, utensils, appliance cords, metal pipes from plumbing or shelving, bottles, scissors, shatter a good pane of glass and wrap tape around one end in a pinch.

Everything is a weapon.

[sonotyourdog]

...Congratulations. [Have some clapping.] For coming to that conclusion.

[psychoticracer]

*snorts* You're the one who was making noises about not finding anything to be creative with.

[voice]

[misfortunfavors]

... [Just listens; inhales quietly.]

[psychoticracer]

Another new one? Don't think I know that call sign.

So *very* nice to meet you.

[misfortunfavors]

Creative how?

[psychoticracer]

*cackles*

just -

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