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« glad you’re having fun. i’m not. » (Fiona)
“You know how that one thing goes? If you’re not having fun, you can go home. Or is something keeping you tied up, here? And if you’re not having fun, what are you feeling? Uneasy? Uncomfortable?” Because he would honestly revel in that, as well, and just make things more fun for him.
“I should like to say that I make no assumptions about your occupation nor your ways, Witch. Which… which are nothing to me, whatever you are.“ (August)
“Which witch which which? You wanna say ‘which’ a few more times, there?” he said, poking fun at him.
“Well, I can tell you I’m not a witch. I thought that was a nickname people reserved for the Sirens. The skulls and blood and shit aren’t an occult thing, I just like it. I thought that was kind of a common aesthetic around this planet, anyway. And I don’t have magic fingers. -I got, uh... science? fingers. One goes zap and the other melts shit. Zap as in electrical. So yeah, no magic here. Just a straight-up, brutal murderer.” Of course there was that one extra little bit that wasn’t what would be considered normal, but that was reserved for necessities, or really bad days.
