|Cocaine and kittens
||[Oct. 30th, 2004|07:22 pm]
A post-FF7 roleplay
|||||Flogging Molly: Salty Dog||]|
Somehow I am completely unsurprised that Shinra has managed to somehow sabotage their own repairs. I am, however, very surprised that they managed the repairs at all. Not notifying the rest of the world is just ridiculous.
Anyhow. I have convinced Strife that his life's work is to assist me with these ridiculous reports that seem intent on carpeting my rooms. In return, he has given me drugs. That is, metaphorical drugs. "The Sims" is possibly the most addictive substance created by mankind. Now if only they would stop dying... And I swear to Odin, Strife, if you name one more of the little creatures "Jenova" I will not be held responsible for what carnage may ensue.
And Strife - you owe me for the glasses. Keep that in mind next time you download one of those uncensored beds.
I locked the last Jenova in a room and didn't feed it or let it breathe for weeks on end until it died.
Maybe I should have you make out with a Hojo.
...I hate you. You will die a slow and painful death. I will feed you to puppies, Strife.
If you ever dare to mention that incompetent wretch again, particularly in conjunction with my name, I shall make sure that you get the night-watch as well as your current shift.
Ohh, now you want to see me at night, too? This is a change, Mr. Masculine.
When I see you in the morning, I am going to beat you with the toaster. Just so you know. (And stop hitting on me so indirectly. If you wish to make a point, just come out and say it. We all know you're a pansy, Strife, it's nothing to be ashamed about. I won't laugh too hard.)
Does the girl-man have enough muscle to lift the toaster? :o Maybe we should call the Turks to help you.
If I was hitting on you, you'd know it.
Did you miss the part where I'm the greatest SOLDIER to ever live? Because I'm pretty sure that rather defines me as having more strength in my pinky finger than in your entire body, oh-so-glorious failure.
Arm wrestling after lunch tomorrow?
I dunno, you might intimidate me with your soft hair and long eyelashes.
And now you are hitting on me, Strife. Stop being such a girl and grow a spine. I think you're just afraid I'll break your arm by accident.
Yeah, that sure is hitting on you, femme-man. See you at lunch.
Stop fussing with your hair for an hour every morning and call me that again. See you at breakfast, unless you intend to make Rude grouchy.