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MurderWeasel
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That boy needs therapy!
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Adam wasn't expecting someone to come around the corner. When the boy pulled up just short of running him over, Adam's mouth opened in surprise. The cigarette dropped from his lips, and he instinctively caught it with his left hand, only to toss it to the ground half a second later with a hiss as the still-lit tip burned his palm.

Alright, this clown had officially become unfunny. All they wanted was a place to rest, but now, some asshole was tripping over them the second they took even a moment to chill. Adam bounced to a stand, a movement no less quick and graceful for the way it made his fatigued legs ache. His first impulse was to just haul back and lay the guy out on the ground, but he didn't. This newcomer, well, come to think of it, he hadn't done anything except get scared and surprised, and Adam had been guilty of both since the start of this little adventure.

The sword was in his right hand, but it was hanging at his side. He didn't move to ready it.

"Hey," Adam said. His voice was flat and his face was blank. He hoped his sudden and not at all collected physical reactions didn't completely spoil the effect. "You okay?"

He couldn't remember this guy's name, like, not even enough to take a wild guess. That was okay, though, because Adam could sort of remember all the people who'd killed, which meant the newcomer hadn't. Unless, of course, he'd murdered someone during the day.

"There's a couple others nearby," Adam added, because he was sick enough of surprises without making this into some kind of crazy conga line where Natali and Maynard each stumbled into the exchange in turn and started the whole process over again.
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