[Really, Ramirez is normally a very patient person, but there are a few things he really cannot stand. One of them being stifling. Stagnating. Idleness. Something he has been suffocated by ever since he arrived in Luceti. The fact that his temper seemed to be gradually shortening ever since his recovery at the hands of the Malnosso has not done
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Comments 137
Ramirez? Are... you all right?
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...Fine.
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Did something happen?
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Not at all.
[That is the problem. And for a moment, as his restlessness grows thinking of the situation, he swears that he can feel an unpleasant twinge at the back of his mind.
But then again, perhaps he was just imagining things.]
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VOOOOOII! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!
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There's no need to shout.
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Oh? Did I disrupt your tantrum?
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No; I was finished.
[And as if to prove his point, he gestures out to the landscape he just laid waste to. Can't do much with splinters.
He doesn't attempt to deny his reaction was extreme; in fact, he's a even bit nonplussed by it.]
You may be disrupting someone else, however. If you wish to speak to me, than I can hear you just fine.
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Hey there.
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Good afternoon.
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Making some firewood?
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Yes. But it seems I got carried away.
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But his back is still turned, Emil.
Run while you can.]
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But really, I'm just making it sound scarier than it really is because Ramirez has no trace of what appears to be a madman on his face. If anything, he looks vaguely horrified that Emil witnessed that little outburst.
...This makes things awfully awkward.]
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[Truthfully she doesn't look that great, worn out and a little sleepy - she hasn't been around much, because of Shit Happening with Harry. When one of your best friends has what amounts to an evil possessive parasitic devil in their head, you spend a lot of time trying to get it out. That, fortunately, was over, though only just, and Luna and the rest of the Hogwarts kids were able to rejoin society again. Her not being around as much in the last couple weeks probably hasn't helped his mood.]
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...Oh. Oh.
...Ffffffuuuuuuck. Why does he feel like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar? Though that lingering, nervous guilt is soon replaced by an unpleasant knot of worry when he sees how awful she looks.]
...Are you all right?
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I think I've been better, but I'm almost sure I'm fine. You don't seem so fine, though, do you? What is it?
[She's not beating around the bush is she?]
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You don't look fine. What happened?
[She never does. He's getting used to it. But not enough that he just makes things easier on himself by answering her the first time, apparently.]
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