Ah. I am not including the parts where he is trying to kill us as part of the ‘dickishness.’
More stealing our belongings and dispelling anything we do with magic and pretending it is because we were being inconsiderate, this sort of thing. It made us look back quite fondly on the times you were a dick.
I think we agreed that you are more of an effortless dick. Not as intentional about it, much more likable.
. . . It’s strange. From time to time he would say things that were so similar to you. I think we thought for a while maybe we could talk to him, but. . . no.
[He'd been joking about it a moment ago, but he doesn't care for this thing where apparently he and this ... thing are similar in any way. Even though he can see that himself. It makes him a big disgusted. Nauseated.]
[Local tiefling exploring new and fascinating ways of practicing self-loathing, self-loathing experts astounded. He's quiet for a second at that, before he just ... nods.]
... I'm not sorry about dying. I-- If it helped Beauregard and you and Nott get the hell out of there, then I'm alright with it. But I'm not going to sit here and say I didn't want more time.
[He says that softly, thoughts unavoidably going to that twitch in Lucien, the hesitation to hurt them. But he tries to shut down that train of thought so he doesn’t accidentally start to share.]
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The-- Bit where he grabbed Beauregard by the neck and made her bleed from every face hole wasn't even a greatest hit?
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More stealing our belongings and dispelling anything we do with magic and pretending it is because we were being inconsiderate, this sort of thing. It made us look back quite fondly on the times you were a dick.
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Glad I look so flattering in hindsight.
[He's unwinding a bit from the tight ball of anxiety he was earlier, just relaxing his legs out. Still staying against Caleb's shoulder though.]
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I think we agreed that you are more of an effortless dick. Not as intentional about it, much more likable.
. . . It’s strange. From time to time he would say things that were so similar to you. I think we thought for a while maybe we could talk to him, but. . . no.
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Uninvited guest. It's my fucking house.
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[Putting aside that his contempt for Molly is one of the ways he’s similar to Molly.]
So don’t. . . give this asshole the satisfaction of saying you shouldn’t be here anymore. We prefer you, and we can always evict him.
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[Local tiefling exploring new and fascinating ways of practicing self-loathing, self-loathing experts astounded. He's quiet for a second at that, before he just ... nods.]
... I'm not sorry about dying. I-- If it helped Beauregard and you and Nott get the hell out of there, then I'm alright with it. But I'm not going to sit here and say I didn't want more time.
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[He says that softly, thoughts unavoidably going to that twitch in Lucien, the hesitation to hurt them. But he tries to shut down that train of thought so he doesn’t accidentally start to share.]
A little more time sounds good.
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... Never thought of my life as complicated before. When the fuck did everything get so complicated?
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[You woke up in a grave with amnesia, sir. Your circus had a fiend in it and broke out in zombie attacks.]
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No! Exciting and interesting, I suppose, but not complicated. Until you lot showed up. Then it got very complicated very quickly.
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No, no, you're right. I think you're free and clear on this particular bit of fuckery.
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So many good memories from the past year I could have given you. Instead, nothing but ugliness.