voice;

[amoray]

So what are you gonna do when they outlaw all that superheroin' nonsense you all lowe so damn much?

[to his credit, he's trying to sound grave. (it isn't working.)]

We take this - and we're goin' to, since we got such big pushers for mustard-bellied diplomacy in charge around here - they ain't gonna be satisfied 'til they got us all on leashes. And at the first signs a dissent, they're gonna hang us by 'em. I sure hope you lot can handle the usage a our powers bein' a criminal offense, since that's the next thing to go. A Wulcanus gun in ewery Natiwe hand and a trackin' chip in ewery filthy imPort, right?

[a theatrical pause. contrary to his usual habit of getting worked up in his tirades, eridan's been very calm (albeit smug in his "my unreasonable paranoia was entirely justified" kind of way) but no less intense throughout.]

We start goin quietly into that good fuckin' nocturnal phase and we aint newer gonna stop.

Comments

[amoray]

Don't be stupid. I know you better than anyone.

[OOH

WENT THERE]

[enigmaestro]

Falsehood.

Oh no. Did that thing a little? Because I'm rather hoping it did.

[amoray]

Did you already forget what I kept sayin' about hopin' for shit?

[enigmaestro]

So little else gets you so easily annoyed, though.

[amoray]

Are you just needlin' me to be irritatin' again?

'Cos it's startin' to come off all obsessed and shit again.

[enigmaestro]

Don't flatter yourself, I'm just pointing out your mishaps here.

For example. If you think we haven't considered all scenarios along with diplomacy, you're insane.







Oh. Wait.

[amoray]

That's pot and kettle talk, ain't it?

'Cos you'd hawe to be batshit up the fuckin' belfry if you think you got a chance in hell a handlin' this one, Nygma. Not when it comes to you and your piss-weak excuse for a moirail.

[enigmaestro]

[Neutrally, just neutrally spoken. Creepily so:] It is amazing what an individual can compromise for the sake of an idea.

You'll see.

[amoray]

That just makes you sound crazier.

[enigmaestro]

Careful, Eridan. You don't want people to get the wrong idea.

[amoray]

Ewerybody already knows you lost your fuckin' mind about a knot back, Ed.

[enigmaestro]

That isn't the wrong idea I was referring to.

[amoray]

Then spit it out.

[enigmaestro]

Nah.

[amoray]

Then you can fuck off and quit wastin' my precious time.

[god eddie he's busy comparing yours and his relationship to fatal attraction down in fury's thread

god]

[enigmaestro]

What's so precious about it? It's not like you're contributing anything to society, here.

[RUDE]

[amoray]

You wouldn't really know what I am and ain't doin', would you?

[enigmaestro]

I know you're making an ass of yourself as we speak.

Does that count?

[amoray]

You're awoidin' the question. You really got no fuckin' clue what I do with my time nowadays, do you?

Must be irritatin'.

[enigmaestro]

I could figure it out, you know. A few simple deductions and a tape recorder aligned to my power would clarify the matter easily.

But you're just not worth the literal eight minutes, Eridan Ampora.

[amoray]

[of course, he's pissed; in fact, he's pissed to the point where he can't quite think of anything suitably cutting to retort with.

so he just kind of starts a few times, stops, and then falls into a resentful silence.]

NO I LIKE THIS ONE BETTER

[enigmaestro]

Good boy.

LMFAO SARA

[amoray]

- I keep gettin' this eerie feelin' that you're just spittin' up shit your father told you, honestly. Makes this whole feud a ours all fuckin' weird, reenactin' your childhood and whatnot.

[he's still obviously recovering his stride, but his sneer is genuine enough.]

Patronizin' bullshit included, Ed.

c]8)

[enigmaestro]

[Harshly, much too harshly:] Do leave the psychoanalysis to Crane, Eridan. He at least has a degree to back his babble.

C]8) can't forget the bonnet!!

[amoray]

What was his name, Ed? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right.

[he's desperate to grab at any weakness he can find, while he can get it. it shows in the quickness of his speech.]

Though as a warnin', I can't cry like a worthless, unlowable little gutterblood. Newer could, really.