"Sister ... What — ?"

"Goodness gracious. What happened?"

"So succulent and flavourful. You mortals have keen tastebuds."

My pained expression softens and I find myself — /amused/ by my sister's predicament. "Well then, — welcome to manhood!"

"I am simply amused, dearest, — not laughing. I've no doubt this will be resolved." A curt, back to 'seriousness', nod.

"I've a question before you depart! Cream soda — do you STILL have an obsession with the beverage?"

Hands tremble. My mind is RACING. A nervous wreck I am. I cannot seem to muster enough courage to speak to Rᴏsᴇʟʏɴ. [Lɪғᴇ]. So I stare.

Which, to be honest probably won't come to pass considering he has awful social anxiety. An idea! He'll get someone else to do it!

"A place where grotesque and sweaty men demand thick-cut bologna." He's had a few 'unsavoury' encounters.

"— and quiet."

| Does anyone here take layout requests?

❝ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ... ❞ ✠ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ✠ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ✠ ᶰᵒᵗ ᶰᵉʷ ᵗᵒ ʳᵖ. ʀᴛ?

| A solo where God makes Death reap his first soul? What?

"Don't you just /love/ history?"