So you drink your day away till the liquor in your mouth laughs
Nate narrowed his eyes at the potter, noting the flippant tone, and sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Why would it bother me? All it does is make it real easy to figure out who's worth worrying about."
"I'm not just going to let him stand there and run his mouth." Nate insisted, crossing his arms. As far as he was concerned, whatever Sam said about him was a personal slight, and he'd never hesitated to correct them before. Especially when he had made the attempt to be cordial. Really, he should be congratulated on his restraint, on the fact that he hasn't escalated to fists and not words.
The lightning strike blew all of those thoughts out of his head though. And the ringing in his ears only seemed to grow worse as the other man stumbled towards him, Nate's brows pulling together as he was snarled at. It was a small mercy that they were close enough he could hear the complaint. "There's safer ways to get shit struck by lightning." He offers back, too loud. "Why's the Voice need metal struck by lightning anyway?" Seemed like an unnecessary risk, in his opinion, exactly for this reason.
Amun began stalking off, an unfortunately familiar and stomach churning smell lingering after him, but Nate wasn't going to let him get away quite that easily. He hurried along after Amun, aiming to get ahead of him and face him properly. "What the fuck is your problem?" It came out rougher than he meant, but it was hard to school his tone at the moment. "We were fine, and now you're acting like I shit in your cornflakes. What happened?"
"I'm not just going to let him stand there and run his mouth." Nate insisted, crossing his arms. As far as he was concerned, whatever Sam said about him was a personal slight, and he'd never hesitated to correct them before. Especially when he had made the attempt to be cordial. Really, he should be congratulated on his restraint, on the fact that he hasn't escalated to fists and not words.
The lightning strike blew all of those thoughts out of his head though. And the ringing in his ears only seemed to grow worse as the other man stumbled towards him, Nate's brows pulling together as he was snarled at. It was a small mercy that they were close enough he could hear the complaint. "There's safer ways to get shit struck by lightning." He offers back, too loud. "Why's the Voice need metal struck by lightning anyway?" Seemed like an unnecessary risk, in his opinion, exactly for this reason.
Amun began stalking off, an unfortunately familiar and stomach churning smell lingering after him, but Nate wasn't going to let him get away quite that easily. He hurried along after Amun, aiming to get ahead of him and face him properly. "What the fuck is your problem?" It came out rougher than he meant, but it was hard to school his tone at the moment. "We were fine, and now you're acting like I shit in your cornflakes. What happened?"
NATE
