Bartholomew
See that might’ve worked on someone else, the whole…threat thing. Bart? He’s already died once. A nice piece of jagged glass to an artery, courtesy of dear old dad. He’s clad in fire resistant leather, and he has nothing to lose. So he tosses his head back and laughs like he’s staring Ludo in the face, grins fit to eat glass, and cracks his neck.
“Oh, I don’t do polite little man.” And then he throws himself forward in the hardest football tackle he can manage, uncaring if his back gets flamed. And he pulls his fist back to crack down in whatever is in reach, because Bart might not be the type to win wars, might be useless in every other goddamn aspect of life, but he can scrap. And sure he might lose, but at this point? In this land that isn’t his, with people who couldn’t care less about him despite the fact he’d die for their cause? Well…what else is there to lose?
“Oh, I don’t do polite little man.” And then he throws himself forward in the hardest football tackle he can manage, uncaring if his back gets flamed. And he pulls his fist back to crack down in whatever is in reach, because Bart might not be the type to win wars, might be useless in every other goddamn aspect of life, but he can scrap. And sure he might lose, but at this point? In this land that isn’t his, with people who couldn’t care less about him despite the fact he’d die for their cause? Well…what else is there to lose?
They say I need therapy 'Cause I've got no symmetry
but maybe I just don't fit in
but maybe I just don't fit in
