Xavier; {+1}
pistolsandmoney
Xavier was a hot-headed p u n k. Short with his temper, quick on his feet, quicker with his stupid mouth. He was a punk bitch, but he wasn't stupid. Just a little d a r i n g.
So, there he sat, perched up on some neighboring roof with a safe room door in sight. Someone had gone it, a group or maybe just one figure; he couldn't tell, didn't c a r e.
What he cared about was the fact that there were actual people who wouldn't just gurgle nonsense at him and try and slap him around because he'd made noise and a little movement. Fucking Commons.
Xavier was lonely, but not an idiot. He knew he'd get fucking shot if he poked his head up too far. So, he perched there slightly crouched and reached out the only way he knew how to... with scratchy, barked, and poorly contrived insults.
"Nice outfit, asshole! Stop at Granny's thrift shop before shit hit the fan? You get your clobberin' skills there too?"