[ careful, Wichita, he might think you really are one of those heterosexual freaks of nature that are only out for themselves if you mention the absence of morality. his values are subtle and he toes the edge constantly. varied as they are, he does have a sense of right and wrong. but it is his sense; no straight man can spoon-feed him those beliefs.

she's skilled, there's no doubting that but he inspects her like an insect, stripping her down. she's a scrap of a thing, really. ] If you're holding out on my turning into Hamlet on your behalf, I almost feel sorry for you. [ he claps a hand on her shoulder consolingly. death is death. unfortunate but the clock doesn't rewind. he doesn't feel sorry for anyone. ] And since when are you patrolling the halls near my bedroom and fighting off otherworldly aliens that crawl through the vents or the floorboards, or that ooze through the fucking walls, anyway? You're on the gunnery, not out playing fucking Batman with tits - I hope.

[ have a squint though, in the event that she is. ]