Would probably end in blablablah, you're a dick anyway.

He pauses to give her a look over his shoulder. "Lady, we just spilled each other's blood. That doesn't exactly scream fun dining companions."

"If you're playing Good Samaritan, don't bother. I'm fine. We're fine. I'll avoid this place next time I'm around here."

"Oh, I'm aware." He took a drag off of the cig and turned to her. "I can't eat your food. Can't. I've got . . . allergies."

He could hear the tone and rolled his eyes. "I'm on a raw diet if that explains anything."

"I'm not a demon!" He snapped quickly then sighed. "I'm just Damned like one."

His eye twitched and the cigarette in his hand got crushed when he clenched his fist. Damn it. Fucking things were getting expensive. "Lady, I wouldn't eat your food now if it saved my fucking soul."

"We obviously piss each other off. Best we part ways before it gets worse." He gives her a nod and heads off again.

He's just cranky from carting around the massive chip on his shoulder.

"I don't need your chicken! Let it go!"

He ducks instinctively and brings his arms up to protect his head from embers and debris. "What the fuck? I'm trying to leave!"

He brushes the ash marks off his hands and grumbles at the burn hole in his coat. "You can't kill me, you know. I'm not allowed to die. Not for long anyway."

Spending his weekend blackout drunk and starting bar fights. It's Easter tradition.

Hmm.

Snow is fucking annoying.

Shots at 6 am don't count as bad if you haven't been to sleep yet.

No, I don't have a Valentine. No, I don't give a fuck.

This kinda pussy is my favorite.