[ He was furious. Silco hated her. He hated the sanctimonious, self-indulgent tone she took. Oh, she admitted Piltover wronged them, how nice. Ages. Ages. He'd grown up little more than a Sump Rat, scurrying around, and slaving away so someone like Caitlyn's family could become rich, off of their backs. His fist tightened, and his lips peeled back. He wasn't afraid of the gun, he wasn't even humiliated. The pounding in his head, the fury pulled him through. So he didn't have another weapon? Did she even know what he could do? His gloved hand twitched in its balled fist, but he didn't dare pull it off.
That was being saved. He wouldn't die here, he would rather break the bones in his body, and limp to where he would be needed but he wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of seeing more happen.
But the Enforcer already seemed to be promising him that she wouldn't kill him. Of course she would. It was a kindness wrapped in just as much pettiness as she could manage. It was insulting, and the fact that she wanted to try to rub that in, like he was the one who'd done wrong. Like his vision for Zaun was wrong? Laughable. ]
Just the expert on us, are you? [ He said, his tone sarcastic, biting. ] A nice trip, and suddenly you've got the whole thing figured out. How wonderful. Where were you, on the Day of Ash, hm? We could have used your sanctimonious little high-ideals, and maybe we could have held hands with the Enforcers, and everything would have been resolved. No suffering, either. [ A sneer. ] Please, spare me all of your ignorant little diatribe next time, hm? I'm the monster your people forced me to be.
[ He leaned forward, slightly, and his lip curled, the full sight of his scars, from the sweat and the movement. The patch of black was already showing, over his left eye, the mutated, filthy skin peeking through the veneer of makeup he put over it. ] From the air we're forced to breathe, from the water that poisons us slowly... what's one more, when it makes you afraid of us for once in your lives.
[ He leaned back then, slightly. He didn't have any other physical tricks, obviously. He'd never needed them, but there's a sickened pang -- somewhere low in his gut -- of wishing there was true backup, someone he could trust, and he hated this reality even more, every time, just a slight bit more. Every time he thought about it, this world, with Zaun gone, and --
He wanted it gone, to just scratch it into powder like ash beneath his heel. ]
Go ahead, why don't you just insult me a little more. Let's see where it goes, hm? Are you actually going to shoot me next, or are you going to wave that around?
no subject
That was being saved. He wouldn't die here, he would rather break the bones in his body, and limp to where he would be needed but he wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of seeing more happen.
But the Enforcer already seemed to be promising him that she wouldn't kill him. Of course she would. It was a kindness wrapped in just as much pettiness as she could manage. It was insulting, and the fact that she wanted to try to rub that in, like he was the one who'd done wrong. Like his vision for Zaun was wrong? Laughable. ]
Just the expert on us, are you? [ He said, his tone sarcastic, biting. ] A nice trip, and suddenly you've got the whole thing figured out. How wonderful. Where were you, on the Day of Ash, hm? We could have used your sanctimonious little high-ideals, and maybe we could have held hands with the Enforcers, and everything would have been resolved. No suffering, either. [ A sneer. ] Please, spare me all of your ignorant little diatribe next time, hm? I'm the monster your people forced me to be.
[ He leaned forward, slightly, and his lip curled, the full sight of his scars, from the sweat and the movement. The patch of black was already showing, over his left eye, the mutated, filthy skin peeking through the veneer of makeup he put over it. ] From the air we're forced to breathe, from the water that poisons us slowly... what's one more, when it makes you afraid of us for once in your lives.
[ He leaned back then, slightly. He didn't have any other physical tricks, obviously. He'd never needed them, but there's a sickened pang -- somewhere low in his gut -- of wishing there was true backup, someone he could trust, and he hated this reality even more, every time, just a slight bit more. Every time he thought about it, this world, with Zaun gone, and --
He wanted it gone, to just scratch it into powder like ash beneath his heel. ]
Go ahead, why don't you just insult me a little more. Let's see where it goes, hm? Are you actually going to shoot me next, or are you going to wave that around?