[And down to the floor Lutha finally tumbles, sloppy and graceless and nearly kicking Frisk in the back of the head in the process. His eyes still don't look at anyone or anything but a pinpoint in the floor, his arms shaking as he fumbles for one of the ends of his scarf.]
L-like hell I did-- [It's a shaken retort, nearly lost for House as Lutha catches his glove between his teeth, pulling it off and spitting it onto the floor, frantically trying to wipe off a scarred and malformed right hand.]
no subject
L-like hell I did-- [It's a shaken retort, nearly lost for House as Lutha catches his glove between his teeth, pulling it off and spitting it onto the floor, frantically trying to wipe off a scarred and malformed right hand.]
The fuck is wrong with you?