exsilium | Video;

Hey, Transports-ya.

[Seated with an expression of amusement, Law settled back after turning on his comm and sitting aside from it. He was seated in a small looking little office, juggling a human head in one hand. The young man whose head it was, with brown hair and blue eyes and a load of sedated confusion in his eyes--looked around pensively once in awhile, wincing whenever his head landed and touched Law's palm.

Law didn't seem at all phased by this. In reality, he was treating the man for alcohol poisoning and separated his head from his body in the middle of it, but he had no etiquette when it came to delivering this message. Rather, he just enjoyed himself in the middle of the procedure. The young native man didn't utter a complaint at all, but one could tell this was completely surreal to him. On top of that--the spot where his head was clearly disconnected from his absent body was blackened and doing nothing to bleed. No one could even see blood vessels, bone or muscles through the black lining on his neck.]

I'm in the middle of waiting on something, so I figured I'd make use of this thing to kill a little boredom of mine. Let's talk.

So, just so I can get the gist of what it is I'm dealing with at the moment: How many people have you killed? Can you even remember the numbers anymore?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If that's all you've got, it'll be problematic for me.

Of course it's not all I've got. You're just not getting what I do have, because you haven't earned it. Are you stupid?

You can call me whatever you want. It's not like I could interfere at the moment. It's just boring this way and I'm already dreading this sort of vacation.

What fucking vacation?

This place. So far as I know, it's a pretty relaxing place to be.

If the action is as minimal as that war I've heard about, then I'm likely going to be shooting the breeze more often than I'd prefer.

Okay. So you're new here?

Let's not make small-talk, miss. You're liable to get bothered.

Oh, hardly. It takes lots to bother me.

Toying with human life doesn't ping you that much, then?

Nah. I've seen way worse.

[FUCK YOU FUCK YOU THAT SHIT IS WHACK]

Then, I'll be sure to take that into account. If people have strong stomachs, then I won't censor myself as much next time.

[DANCIN ON SUNSHINE]

Yeah, no, definitely don't. What are you planning for your next trick?

Planning? I plan quite a few things, but if I do too much of it, I lose interest in them.

I'd rather just wing it.

Now, that just speaks to a lack of intellect.

What a harsh swing. Are you going right for my neck already?

Sure. I'd aim for your head but there's nothing there to hurt.

Well, now. If I took away your words, I wonder if there would be anything left to you.

[When you're a little freaked, you can always find a protective shield of sarcasm.]

I've been told I have a nice ass, so there'd be that. How about you, asshole? What would you do without words?

I never gained my reputation with words. So, I suppose this is something better left for you to find out.

[Raising his hand, Law turned his fingers over and the head on the wall vanished into thin air just as he began to stand.] Either way. I'm all done with this guy.

[Syrupy:] Oh, you get bored so quickly. That's not a good quality in a man.

So what's going to happen to him?

He's going to wake up at some point and believe he has alcohol tolerance akin to an ox, because I removed the toxins from his blood stream that would have otherwise caused a severe hangover. He's probably going to drink himself to death tonight, believing himself invincible.

[Law reached aside to pick up his nodachi, leaning the fuzzy handle of it against his shoulder. In his other hand, he took his communicator.]

And, we all get bored quickly. The difference between people is that some of us are more polite about it than others.

[She'll be checking that shit as best she's able. She doesn't know if she can track the guy down from nothing more than an image of a head, but she's gonna try, and if this asshole's lying to her and he's committed murder then she's going to remember.

For now, though, she's back to proper unflappable saccharine sweetness:]

You're not calling me rude, are you?

[Not that torture is on the same table as murder--or oh wait it is. Still, Law seemed to look pretty chipper about it--as chipper as a deadpanned psychopath could ever look.]

I think you're poorly intentioned, but unless you're cutting off peoples' heads the same way I am, I don't imagine you're going to fit the description I made.

Poorly intentioned?

[A smile.]

What's poor about my intentions?

Video;

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]