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Viewing Single Post From: Aaaaaand he's gone.
MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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"Uh, fuck you. Wanna know why?" Jerry insisted, mostly directing his attention toward Brendan though he could kinda-sorta see Nadia from where he was on the stairs. "Because I have a knife, that's why. I NEED this thing, it's like... totally my baby." Yes. If his baby were sharp, made of steel, and equipped with a spring, it would totally be a switchblade. Somewhere along the line, that simile really got away from him.

Nadia did have a point, though, about there possibly being somebody in the house. "As far as I know, nobody's around. Not the ground, anyway." Jerry peeked over his shoulder to make sure the goddamn boogeyman didn't get him between then and now. Shit, the very thought of going upstairs was still kinda tweaking him out. "Dunno if somebody's hiding or sleepin' or is dead upsta- ugh. Creeped myself out..."

He allowed (as if he really had a choice) a shiver to roll over his shoulders. His hand was still tensed over the handle of the knife, and he snuck a look to Brendan; it was something in the vein of 'yeeeeah, you wanna try takin' this from me, fucker?' in his intention. Then again, without a mirror, it was hard to tell if he properly conveyed a look that said that or 'I just ate that burrito with a salsa maybe one notch too spicy, and I'm going to regret it later'.
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Aaaaaand he's gone. · The Hunting Cabin