What if I dab on them haters and the haters dab back?
Dark twitched a brow, having heard of this strange ritual that humans responded to one another with. The lining of his jaw adjusted some as he rubbed his lips together, silent in thought to allow for the rivets of glitches to ring behind his back, snapping against the darkness like strikes of canine teeth. In a flash of blue against his skin, he finally moved again, one arm reaching down beneath the top of his desk in order to rummage across the wood. Drawers opened and closed, mutters passed from the figment’s pale lips, and he spent some time in search.
“I know I left that damn thing around— Ah.”
He let out a satisfied sigh as he found what he was in search for, and lifting up heavy kitchen blade, tilted it around in his fingers in order to examine it carefully.
“I do believe this might do the trick.”
He handed off the weapon carefully, before providing a small, mischievous smile that tinged on the line of daring.
“Don’t tell Anti.”
