Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
Well, the man’s handshake is firm enough, and scarred like Bart’s own - if a little more drastically - so that’s a good enough start for him. And a name, at that, even if Bart (being the asshole he is) will probably refer to him as Scarface until his dying day. Though he’ll surely come up with something more creative eventually. Poking fun at someone’s appearance is a low bar for him. Not because he’s above it, but because he likes to think he has better things to prod at than what’s readily available to the eye.
Then Sunjata starts dumping world-shattering info left and right, and Bartholomew is helpless to do anything but listen and try not to stumble in the wet sand with his biker boots. It’s more than a lot to digest, and he’s still not quite convinced this isn’t a fucked up brand of Purgatory, but he tries to roll with it.
Only to throw an incredulous look Sunjata’s way toward the end. "I’m sorry, did you just say my brother’s a fuckin’ vampire? What the hell." Fuck he’s glad Nate’s alive, but out of all the options he became Dracula? Oh god, this is way too much ammunition. Bart has never felt so alive. Maybe this really is heaven. A gleeful look steals over his face that spells nothing but trouble, tempered only by the statement that there’s apparently legit Gods here. Like, plural. He definitely didn’t mishear that. "Well f’yer gonna light my brain up with all this info, might as well tell me about these gods. Rip the bandaid off." He can schedule his crisis for later.
Then Sunjata starts dumping world-shattering info left and right, and Bartholomew is helpless to do anything but listen and try not to stumble in the wet sand with his biker boots. It’s more than a lot to digest, and he’s still not quite convinced this isn’t a fucked up brand of Purgatory, but he tries to roll with it.
Only to throw an incredulous look Sunjata’s way toward the end. "I’m sorry, did you just say my brother’s a fuckin’ vampire? What the hell." Fuck he’s glad Nate’s alive, but out of all the options he became Dracula? Oh god, this is way too much ammunition. Bart has never felt so alive. Maybe this really is heaven. A gleeful look steals over his face that spells nothing but trouble, tempered only by the statement that there’s apparently legit Gods here. Like, plural. He definitely didn’t mishear that. "Well f’yer gonna light my brain up with all this info, might as well tell me about these gods. Rip the bandaid off." He can schedule his crisis for later.
Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear
let weakness disappear
BARTHOLOMEW
