(01)

[lupusxylem]

[For as long as he's been here- which has only been a month so far- Wolfwood has pointedly avoided letting his thoughts drift into the wider stream of consciousness at large, as much as that is possible anyway. He hates...utterly loathes the idea of someone being able to hear what he's thinking, but he's started to get desperate. He couldn't find anything suitable to protect himself with last month in the long term, and with his living situation still fluid and not knowing what might be coming around the corner, it's not a good feeling to be vulnerable. He has his claws and wings, sure, but what good are they when he doesn't really know how to use them? He's a sharp-shooter, not a fist-fighter.

So...begrudgingly. Reluctantly, in a way that will be felt, you'll hear him speaking:]

I need a gun. Or something like one, but preferably an actual gun. Is there anyone in this godforsaken place who can hook me up?

Will work for cigarettes, also.

Comments

[merged]

Sell it? I would never sell someone's soul. Once it's mine, it's mine for good. I collect them like some people collect coins.

[lupusxylem]

Really? So you just plan on puttin' it on a little shelf like a keepsake? Storing it in a jar that says "Nicholas D. Wolfwood" on it?

[merged]

See, you get it! So, what do you say? Soul for cigs? [ AKA: them cigs is free, bitch! ]

[lupusxylem]

You drive a hard bargain, but alright. But I think if there's anything I'd sell my soul for, it'd be a smoke.

[merged]

This is why I target addicts. Sharon da Silva always gets her souls.

[lupusxylem]

Pretty smart business model, not gonna lie. Too bad though, I only got one soul to give.

[merged]

That's what makes them so collectible!