8th Invasion

[praxipads]

She says what we want to hear.

Doesn't make it truth, friends.

Comments

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[psychoticracer]

[Erol was already going slowly mad under his restrictions - the occasional diversion notwithstanding, it was little more than a temporary valve release on a boiler steadily building up pressure. It shows; he's not been eating properly, and the rings beneath his eyes are especially prominent.

Now for some reason EVERYONE is short-tempered, among other things, and that really is just enough to make Erol do or say some very stupid things...]

Gullible as a pack of lobotomized Lightning Moles, this lot.

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[praxipads]

[Praxis pockets the device and narrows his remaining eye at his henchman.]

Now, Erol.

Mind your manners.

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[psychoticracer]

[Erol glances back. His yellow eyes are flat, reflective, and - unusually - show no sign he's heard the very clear unvoiced warning.]

I thought you made it excruciatingly clear I had no redeeming qualities, Sir.

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[praxipads]

[Now he's outright glaring. Is his dog yapping back at him? Oh fuck no.]

I brought it to your attention so you could better yourself.

[shayngunn]

Oh?

[praxipads]

Hello, Madam.