[ david honestly has no idea what he wants here, all he knows is just a few minutes ago he was in a surprisingly good mood and now he's itching to see blood. of course, with david switching back can be just as fast too, but right now he feels like a dog pulling on a rope. growling, desperate for something even if it doesn't know what that is. ]
Oh-- My apologies for offerin' you a choice in how you went out.
[ sure, okay, it was for himself. stalling, looking for a reason it wouldn't just be him killing someone in a rage like he was always afraid he would one day. just lose control and tear someone apart. ]
[ sometimes he thinks he should just give into it, especially here where it barely even fucking matters, thinks about evan's lifeless body and the satisfaction that came with it, always just a brief thing before the nausea sets in. not over the killing, but the way blood on his hands and a body at his feet feels right to some fucked up part of him. like that's what he was made for. ]
[ between the way that thought makes him sick to his stomach, and the fact that he and evan have found this weird sort of civility — fragile as it is — it's what keeps the clenched fists at his sides instead of throwing a punch. no small one either, the kind that would break a normal man's jaw. david backs up a step instead, not exactly disengaging but something like it. not enough like it, because he can't stop himself from going on. ]
Won't make that mistake next time, don't you worry.
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Oh-- My apologies for offerin' you a choice in how you went out.
[ sure, okay, it was for himself. stalling, looking for a reason it wouldn't just be him killing someone in a rage like he was always afraid he would one day. just lose control and tear someone apart. ]
[ sometimes he thinks he should just give into it, especially here where it barely even fucking matters, thinks about evan's lifeless body and the satisfaction that came with it, always just a brief thing before the nausea sets in. not over the killing, but the way blood on his hands and a body at his feet feels right to some fucked up part of him. like that's what he was made for. ]
[ between the way that thought makes him sick to his stomach, and the fact that he and evan have found this weird sort of civility — fragile as it is — it's what keeps the clenched fists at his sides instead of throwing a punch. no small one either, the kind that would break a normal man's jaw. david backs up a step instead, not exactly disengaging but something like it. not enough like it, because he can't stop himself from going on. ]
Won't make that mistake next time, don't you worry.