[ Holding a broken whiskey bottle full of apple juice up to his mouth, Belphegor sat down on one of the broken and thrashed chairs in a rather bare looking room, being careful to keep it balanced between the three legs it still had- although once he got a sip of the juice, the prince was bringing himself up to his feet, kicking the chair over,
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[There is an empty bottle being thrown from somewhere, sailing towards the prince's head with quite a bit of force and speed.]
[A distant "FUCKING TRASH" can be heard off in one of the hallways.]
[Illusions are awesome.]
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[ So he'll be high-tailing his way backwards. ]
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[But for now-]
[Liger growls can be heard too close for comfort.]
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[ All the way down the hall into worlds unknown. ]
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The prince doesn't want to.
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[--okay, she's in a bit of a sour mood.]
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[This is a pissed off girl. She herself is tearing into an apple.]
The hell do people think they have the goddamn right to just go around wasting food?
Eat that or I'll kill you.
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I refuse.
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You're asking to get somethin' torn off, prince asshole.
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