Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26414442-20150506015955/@comment-25686329-20150509135717

The Yankee's eyes and mind fluttered in thought when Pirouette mentioned not 'dying alone', calling to mind images of her and a soldier inside a fireplace, and his own solitary death.

For a fleeting second, he swore her eyes darted over to him. Maybe it was in his head.

Then Tim Soldier spoke.

The Yankee's index finger, the one most used to pulling revolver triggers, reflexively convulsed as he said 'Her soldier'. Like he had exclusive claim to her or something. Oh, calm down, man. The Yankee told himself. He's a cripple with a half-decent ending, he can't be a total prick-on-the-spinning-wheel.

And yet something in the back of the Yankee's mind was making room for a distinct disliking of this guy. In fact, the only words he had to describe his current, very American, very strong opinion on the boy was That smug fricker.

Belle said something about a ballet that the Yankee had never heard of, at which point he looked it up on his MirrorPhone. Something about love, revenge, and rising from the grave. Author-Grimn it, does everyone have better tales than me!?

The leader mentioned something about being genderless. Weird, she -- excuse me -- 'they' looked female to him.

Then that shreiking guy burst into the room, perfectly timed to a comment about dramatic entrances.

"Dude, nobody gives two..." He trailed off. Perhaps it was a bad idea to diss a member of the support group for the soon-to-be-dead. He needed... he almost gagged as he thought of the word... kindness in his life as much as the next guy.

He sighed. "What's next on the agenda?"