“ c’mon kid, ” exasperation seeps into tone. doll’s voice is wrong, a distortion, an amalgamation of his cadence through @dollsvessel’s voice box, sort of auditory uncanny valley. slowly it shifts, becomes something more comfortable to think about: because her lips ain’t moving.
( it’s all in your head, nica ! )
“ be honest with yourself, or just fuckin' humor me, for a second . . you ain't gonna walk out of here by yourself. ” his usual smug demeanor is hidden under concerned tone, as if this is some sort of compromise, his attempt at persuasion a way of showing her the light.
“ i know tiff, know how she acts, how she thinks, i've been married to her for thirty years, alright. ” locked doors and labyrinth hallways, once tiffany gets her claws in something, she doesn’t let go. obsessive bitch.
“ she might show you some charms or spells, but she isn't gonna just - ” let you kick me out ? remove me ? hesitation skips like a stone across her mind from his own. tiffany has removed him from the narrative of his kids' lives, while not replaced he is easy enough to erase. still, he recovers well. “ - open the door and let ya go. so either you can make a move, or just close your eyes and. . . let me handle it. ” delicately put.
( read : do it yourself, or get out of the fucking way. )
“ your goody two-shoes act ain't doin us any favors. ”