[ Casey's been in keeping with leaving his journal lying around open for a while now; not only does it usually provide him with the day's basic info, it conveniently lets him know if the guys need him for something. It also has the annoying habit of picking things up on his end. ]...wondered when you'd turn up around here again. Think I owe you
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But the room is empty. Quiet. Only evidence of a struggle left behind.
He stoops down and picks up a piece of the shattered mask, clenching his fist tightly over sharp edges. Anger burns a fire in his gut.]
Give 'em hell, bro. They don't know who they're messin' with.
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[He opens his mouth, almost says something, then stops. Raphael was closer to him than anyone. The side of his fist slammed into the doorway and a sharp exhale are his only words.]
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He takes two slow steps backwards into the hallway, leans against the wall by Casey's door, and puts his hand over his eyes. It's one thing after another after another around here, and he's out of emotional energy. He can't deal with this too.]
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Shut your hole, sleezebag! You think this's funny!?
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Ja, I do. I am glad it is not me! You know vhat zhe vord schadenfreude means?
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