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“What, so the money you paid for it isn’t wasted? Sorry, I don’t accept charity from you, so read the bill and weep!” https://t.co/l3URcd6hcu
>down the street with a simple wave of his hand, hopefully in a direction with a clothing store.
If she wasn’t imprisoned by the blood, it would melt into a puddle again, and Carmine would elaborate verbally.
“It’s like ya only half listened, seagull. This is gonna be a good ->
The street punk’s explanation took the form of blood forming on the ground below her, springing up and solidifying into an imprisoning spike that, if caught within, would impale and crush her painfully. If that worked, he’d then have the spike lift off the ground and rocket off-> https://t.co/8S1kYiSyjL
@UnIimitedBlades @PlainlySadistic >very little control of their ability to fall. Or, in Carmine’s words…
“BUCHIMAKE DA!”
He could throw it all out, for a moment, and the Archer could land in a shredding whirlwind of blood, or have some devious way to avoid the blender. Either way, distance would be made ->
“Bullshit, you were, like, brain dead. Or close enough.”
Carmine was really regretting snapping her out of it. He shoulda just pushed her off one of the mountains, she smelled strong enough to survive.
“You weren’t doing anything, just taking up space and air.” https://t.co/gsi9NFNAFd
@ActorsAnteroom >monumentally easy to dodge, she probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to miss her, but it impaled itself in the wall right ahead of her path, just before she could leave the area.
The punk who threw it wasn’t looking, or if he was, his hair obscured his face. But in the ->
“I ain’t even angry at you. Not really. I’m just angry.”
The punk was walking closer, now.
“You’re not even a target. Just a normal ass worthless sack of dirt in the right place at the right time~” https://t.co/kkMQCGRfyQ
OH, SHE CAN TRY! He’s fighting on an empty stomach, she might just get lucky…
Luck is the only way she gets anything done, innit? https://t.co/vaTdoff3hL