Oh, you know, just— [ he starts before he's interrupted. his nonchalant smile vanishes quicker than a blink, and he whirls his attention toward the rottweiler, yellow eyes as sharp as the broken bottle gripped tight in his hand. ] It's all my fuckin' business, asshole!
[ he drags the vowel, aaall, brandishing the bottle and kind of waving it in the hellhound's face, almost like a taunt. blitzø loves a good fight; the chance to stretch and flex his muscles, test his reflexes, definitely wouldn't go unappreciated. whatever he has to do to keep loona safe.
speaking of loona - blitzø casts her a quick glance over his shoulder, his back still facing toward her, and it's like a switch being flipped when he talks to her compared to how he'd addressed their potential opponents. ]
There's pizza at home, if you're hungry. Extra pepperoni. I wasn't sure what you like so I kinda guessed.
[ is he insane? this probably isn't the time for casual conversation, but he just seems so... relaxed in the face of their current circumstance. or as relaxed as one can appear with a broken bottle in their hands, but still.
blitzø turns, and again, it's like he's a totally different person, snapping at the group surrounding them. either he has a death wish, or he's very confident in his ability to fight. possibly a little bit of both. ]
Here's the deal. If anyone's gonna back the fuck up, it ain't gonna be me. You wanna "talk" to my daughter? You gotta talk to me first, and I fuckin' hate small talk, so back up - [ his stance shifts, one of his feet sliding back, center of gravity lowering like he's getting ready to take a tackle or spring forward. his eyes narrow, and he smiles, but it's halfway feral. ] - or bring it, bitch.
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[ he drags the vowel, aaall, brandishing the bottle and kind of waving it in the hellhound's face, almost like a taunt. blitzø loves a good fight; the chance to stretch and flex his muscles, test his reflexes, definitely wouldn't go unappreciated. whatever he has to do to keep loona safe.
speaking of loona - blitzø casts her a quick glance over his shoulder, his back still facing toward her, and it's like a switch being flipped when he talks to her compared to how he'd addressed their potential opponents. ]
There's pizza at home, if you're hungry. Extra pepperoni. I wasn't sure what you like so I kinda guessed.
[ is he insane? this probably isn't the time for casual conversation, but he just seems so... relaxed in the face of their current circumstance. or as relaxed as one can appear with a broken bottle in their hands, but still.
blitzø turns, and again, it's like he's a totally different person, snapping at the group surrounding them. either he has a death wish, or he's very confident in his ability to fight. possibly a little bit of both. ]
Here's the deal. If anyone's gonna back the fuck up, it ain't gonna be me. You wanna "talk" to my daughter? You gotta talk to me first, and I fuckin' hate small talk, so back up - [ his stance shifts, one of his feet sliding back, center of gravity lowering like he's getting ready to take a tackle or spring forward. his eyes narrow, and he smiles, but it's halfway feral. ] - or bring it, bitch.