[ His expression remains benign as he sips at the wine, the movement of his lips concealed by the glass. He still keeps his gaze fixed on the assembly as he replies blandly, ]
You can fuck right off.
[ punctuated with another mouthful of the bittersweet drink. ]
Worry about yourself. Pretty sure that’s what you’re good at.
no subject
You can fuck right off.
[ punctuated with another mouthful of the bittersweet drink. ]
Worry about yourself. Pretty sure that’s what you’re good at.