[the passion being thrown at them is baffling and, weirdly, scary? like, this girl's brandishing a sandwich, not a sword or a wand, but it must be that...weird, teenage passion that's giving them the feeling of being held at knifepoint.
the whiplash from the outburst to a relenting sigh leaves the orcish shape frozen in place, breath held, expecting a second shoe to drop.
at the ask, their expression scrunches; one corner of their lip twitches over a tusk.]
Uh, maybe? [they don't even sound sure.] Other people? [but not them. Soliton's an outlier, there's...history there.
where's the history here? simple courtesies without the expectation of payout doesn't make sense in the context of Knife's life.
Knife has no idea what answer this girl wants, so they default to:] Sorry? [people like apologies, right? that...fixes shit?]
no subject
the whiplash from the outburst to a relenting sigh leaves the orcish shape frozen in place, breath held, expecting a second shoe to drop.
at the ask, their expression scrunches; one corner of their lip twitches over a tusk.]
Uh, maybe? [they don't even sound sure.] Other people? [but not them. Soliton's an outlier, there's...history there.
where's the history here? simple courtesies without the expectation of payout doesn't make sense in the context of Knife's life.
Knife has no idea what answer this girl wants, so they default to:] Sorry? [people like apologies, right? that...fixes shit?]