"Magic isn't real; don't be ridic, dudes!" And the familiar, yet irritating voice of America is heard. It's apt to just appear like this and be all loud and whatever cause he's motherfucking America and he does what he wants, no shits given.
He adjusts his glasses, grinning ear to ear as he approaches the two, his little alien sidekick thing following close behind. Standing next to Asato, he grins broadly, curling his fingers for a brofist.
"SUP SIDE-KICK DUDE. How's it hanging? Knock me some skin, soul brother," he insists, keeping his fingers curled as he awaits for Asato to slide him some skin or something. He glances at Clive, brows arching.
"Hey, were you that puzzle dude that had the deck of the cards? From Britain, right?"
hi.
He adjusts his glasses, grinning ear to ear as he approaches the two, his little alien sidekick thing following close behind. Standing next to Asato, he grins broadly, curling his fingers for a brofist.
"SUP SIDE-KICK DUDE. How's it hanging? Knock me some skin, soul brother," he insists, keeping his fingers curled as he awaits for Asato to slide him some skin or something. He glances at Clive, brows arching.
"Hey, were you that puzzle dude that had the deck of the cards? From Britain, right?"