polite ? she didn’t care for polite. her job was rough, vivid, merciless. there was no room for polite. still — there was an air of elegance to the way the demon moved, contrast to her own graceless form. this body was a vessel, only for containing her raw spirit, dirt and grime made no difference.
rolling back, lady distances herself from the other, dual pistols continuing to rain fire onto bayonetta. surprised ? no, she couldn’t be. as a human in this supernatural world — she had to be ready for anything. even if she were stronger than her in every way, that didn’t mean she couldn’t win, now, did it ? everyone loves an underdog.
‘ do you really think some bullets will do the trick love? ‘
so that was her game? shoot so carelessly and recklessly, maybe something will hit? the woman-- no. the girl didn’t quite understand who she chose to pick a fight with. a mortal didn’t stand much a chance against the witch. though it was all the more amusing to watch than actually take part. the frustration and anger that came with every missed shot would come sooner or later. and gun’s would soon run empty before a need to reload. did she truly believe they were the key to picking off demonic and angelic entities?
once more, the rain of bullets was barely much of a threat. it really was more reminiscent of her childhood. and nothing more than just child’s play.
‘ but it’s going to take more than that to keep up a dance with me. ‘
