#& reply.

[fashixnstatement]

spllinters

“ ‘it paid off’ ?? for who? they’re dead, so it didn’t fucking pay off for them. and you’re damned, so i don’t know how it could pay off for you, either. killing doesn’t ‘pay off’ for anyone.”

“it payed off for me, and isn’t that what matters,  really? and i was already damned, baby. been  dead before, and hell really ain’t what it’s cracked  up to be! the devil’s a bit of an atún, and the catering  is pretty delicious.”

[fashixnstatement]

spllinters​ 

there’s the subtlest steeling of features when they register the question, and the answer is given with an ice cold inflection.      “half past none of your damn business, that’s when.”

“chill the fuck out, i was just asking.” he sounds nonchalant, but if you knew him, you’d recognize the twitching fingers, the concerned spark behind the lifeless filter in his eyes. there’s a part of him that aches to communicate that he   cares, he really cares, he really does.