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Viewing Single Post From: Sing A Song Of Sixpence
General Goose
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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Son of a bitch? I mean, your insults really do derive from the maternal-"

Bradley's snark was cut off, and he was not wholly expecting it. He was used to Aiden's type: blustering, blubbering oafs, easily offended, riled up but ultimately too pathetic to do anything more than huff and puff and throw almost endearingly efficacious little tantrums. They were too pathetic, pussies really, to ever make a serious effort at mounting any kind of defence of the values that they apparently held so dear, the lines they were so extravagantly insistent should never be crossed.

Hyperbole, lofty and pompous rhetorical flourishes. That was what he expected from the sort like Aiden. Any man - sorry, boy - so defensive of his family's honour wouldn't get into a fight: that'd upset mommy. At the most, they'd squeal, snitch, tell, whatever. Fucking Benedict Arnold all over again.

So he was surprised when Aiden actually had cajones.

"Woah!"

Thankfully, he responded without being too much of a bitch about it. They fell to the floor, Bradley instinctively pressing his palms against Aiden's shoulders and face, trying to get some breathing room.
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Sing A Song Of Sixpence · Memories from the Past