Wait that's the picture you pick?! [ His face isn't much different at the moment, but he's kind of offended by this. Still, he's reading the rest of it: ] ...hahaha, wrapping paper? Really? [ Of all things. The rest of his profile is so completely off it's just funny, but he doesn't think he's used wrapping paper in years. More than the profile, though, the tuxedo is what he's stuck on. It's weird. Sure, it fits, but there's still something constricting about a bowtie, okay. Turning his head over his shoulder to see if he has tails on this jacket (yes) is about all he has time for before - ] What?!
[ If you survive? What the hell kinda party is this?! (He's been asked if he wants to die a couple times in his life, but not for real. Probably.) In the end, he's definitely not cut out for hunger games, dating or otherwise, so the pile of weapons is getting ignored for the door, which, yes, he's pushing his way between people to get. ] 'scuse me-- [ Did he just knock you over? Sorry. ]
» phase ii.
[ Where he'd picked up the - spear? it's long and there's a pointy bit at the end, anyway, and that's all he needs to know - is anyone's guess. Well, besides his, but the answer is 'tripped over it after some guy dropped it in his, what, search to scale the electrified walls, or whatever, he's not sure, but it's his now'. Not that it's doing him a lot of good, besides something to hold onto - he's settled down enough he's not jumping at shadows, but this shit is at best creepy.
And right now he's not at his best, if the deer-in-headlights expression that lights up behind his glasses when there's a gurgling sort of growl some distance away is any indication. ] Oh, shit...
[ Not loud, because that's asking to be messily murdered, and then he's trying to sneak away. 'Trying' being the operative word, because there's enough blood on the back of his pants from an unfortunate earlier trip-and-fall over a body that his complete lack of understanding of the concept of 'downwind' has just screwed him over. Big time. If you weren't on your guard before, there's now a teenage boy with a giant pointy weapon crashing between trees, and from the sounds behind him, he's not by himself. ] Unless you're planning on being dinner, I'd move!
» wilcard
[ Hit me with anything! He'll mostly be resisting the urge to scream like a little girl and trying not to get killed. ]
ota.
Wait that's the picture you pick?! [ His face isn't much different at the moment, but he's kind of offended by this. Still, he's reading the rest of it: ] ...hahaha, wrapping paper? Really? [ Of all things. The rest of his profile is so completely off it's just funny, but he doesn't think he's used wrapping paper in years. More than the profile, though, the tuxedo is what he's stuck on. It's weird. Sure, it fits, but there's still something constricting about a bowtie, okay. Turning his head over his shoulder to see if he has tails on this jacket (yes) is about all he has time for before - ] What?!
[ If you survive? What the hell kinda party is this?! (He's been asked if he wants to die a couple times in his life, but not for real. Probably.) In the end, he's definitely not cut out for hunger games, dating or otherwise, so the pile of weapons is getting ignored for the door, which, yes, he's pushing his way between people to get. ] 'scuse me-- [ Did he just knock you over? Sorry. ]
» phase ii.
[ Where he'd picked up the - spear? it's long and there's a pointy bit at the end, anyway, and that's all he needs to know - is anyone's guess. Well, besides his, but the answer is 'tripped over it after some guy dropped it in his, what, search to scale the electrified walls, or whatever, he's not sure, but it's his now'. Not that it's doing him a lot of good, besides something to hold onto - he's settled down enough he's not jumping at shadows, but this shit is at best creepy.
And right now he's not at his best, if the deer-in-headlights expression that lights up behind his glasses when there's a gurgling sort of growl some distance away is any indication. ] Oh, shit...
[ Not loud, because that's asking to be messily murdered, and then he's trying to sneak away. 'Trying' being the operative word, because there's enough blood on the back of his pants from an unfortunate earlier trip-and-fall over a body that his complete lack of understanding of the concept of 'downwind' has just screwed him over. Big time. If you weren't on your guard before, there's now a teenage boy with a giant pointy weapon crashing between trees, and from the sounds behind him, he's not by himself. ] Unless you're planning on being dinner, I'd move!
» wilcard
[ Hit me with anything! He'll mostly be resisting the urge to scream like a little girl and trying not to get killed. ]