Would he make a move for the hat, he had a feeling the baron would lash out at him. But, if neither side moved, it would fall and it’s pristine state would be in jeopardy.
The Quickhook was shouldered, kept between the crook of his neck with the handle facing forward.
- Sentimental value, yes. Your status? I can’t agree. Your history, I’m sure, is jaded and, from what I’ve heard, may be misconstrued.
The Quickhook was grabbed, aimed for the hat. When it fired, it hooked around the hook it teetered off of, pulled toward him and set atop his head for easy retrieval. Ugh, who wore this many feathers?
- Sorry, friend. This hat is mine, now.
[ YOU ARE NOT A BARON! YOU NETTLESOME PEST! YOU REPUGNANT LITTLE... ]
At the sight of the tiny captain so effortlessly retrieving his status cap, the baron let out a noise that could be described as unholy, and fell to his knees.
Steam was clouding the Fluidoform’s bowl, beginning to become so condensed that it emitted from the two slots in front, along side the steady drip-drip from the chink in his glass.
Eugh. He was almost pathetic at this point.
[ That hat was my first.. upon joining the Cluster Clan, I received the title of Baron, and that is the only sentiments I have of the event. Can you understand that, you merciless little brute? You know I cannot beat you by my lonesome, this is only kicking a man when he is down... ]
He paused, head rising to meet Flinthook’s triumphant gaze.
[ You don’t want to be that kind of person, do you? ]
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