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[harderdaddy]

Text | Voice | Video | Action What are yah stupid? You know what ta do. kisses~

C

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[harderdaddy]

Prove I can handle shit without blowin' people's heads off, I got it, jeez.

[He does enjoy the occasional turf war though...

He makes a face at the overly moral view point. It's like he never left the hotel at all.]

What inspirational movie did yah steal that line from?

[primedirector]

Foster parents, actually. Granted, I didn't actually stick around to see if they'd follow through, but it's not a bad principle. People will say all sort of shit to your face and then do the opposite behind your back. I wanna see you prove you can handle it.

[harderdaddy]

[Angel shifts his weight and sets the gun on the bar top, taking a long gulp of his drink.]

I still don' see why your opinion of me s'posed to matter. I know what I can handle. And I only play good boy for people who pay. I ain't gonna change my behavior for you one way or the other.

[primedirector]

I mean, it's probably not. I'm definitely not paying. But your opinion of you matters. [She tilts his bottle at him.] And given your circumstances, I don't think it's as pretty as your outfit.

[harderdaddy]

[...well that is a hell of an accurate read, and it makes Angel stiffen, that mask not quite so sure and his eyes narrowing.]

The fuck is that supposed to mean? You don' know shit about me, bitch. I'm Angel Dust. There's not a demon in hell that don't want me. I know what I'm fuckin' worth. [He spits angrily, more mad that she's right than anything. His worth has shit all to do with his actual opinion of himself.]

[primedirector]

[She is certainly not cowed, and stares back at him with even defiance.]

I don't give a shit about your reputation. You basically just said your pimp kills people for you. That doesn't sound good - that sounds like he's making sure his investment doesn't get damaged, not that he cares about you as a person. I've heard that fucks you up pretty good.

[harderdaddy]

[Not unless they've paid for the privilege at least. But that's not exactly a comforting argument.]

I don' gotta deal with shit.

[Avoidance is much easier. He slams back what's left of his drink and pushes away from the bar.]

I'm fuckin' done.

[primedirector]

[She watches him with that deliberate impassive expression. If she gives him an inch, in letting him see her sympathise or freak out, he'll push harder and try to take the mile. She knows his type.

I'm not letting anyone push me around. Not even you, Angel. Sorry.

Instead she just takes another swig of her beer.]

Thanks for hearing me out.

[harderdaddy]

[He flips her off with of 3 of his 4 (current) hands, the 4th reaching back to claim the stupid gun from the table before he stalks off, heels clicking loudly.]