OOC: sorry Splat.
IC: Nox noticed a huge Big Bro slig (Tiny) lumber up behind Patrick, then squeak out directions for him, to which Patrick turned to in reply, and then promptly ran off down the coridoor.
f*** me!, i've seen smaller Tank-Carts during the war! and why the squeaky voice, eh Nox? yeah, while i'm on it, why did that fat lump just run away an' all?! bloody coward! what soddin' war was he in, eh?! the p***in' pencil pushers club?!? chase 'im down Nox, chase 'im down and gut him like the yellow-belly he is! YEEHAW! you do that Nox, you do it! get yer knife out now...now!
"he's a friend damn it!" Nox blurted out unsuspectingly, before the Big Bro slig (Tiny).
you just did it again, Nox. stop listening to me...heh heh.
Nox re-composed himself, looking even worse than before, the years of schizophrenia after the enduring war had taken an obvious physical toll on Nox. his mind so far gone it was un-fixable. he ridgidly held out a hand to the BB slig (Tiny), wearily asking;
"sorry about that, im Nox, and you?".
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