08-13-2019, 03:50 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: calibri; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 1.4;"]If he's bein' honest, Bane's the only part about this place that kept Volatile sane. Caustic doesn't fucking count, the guy's been with him for longer than this hellhole of a town. It's not quite about trust, but he trusts Caustic and he trusted Bane — can't help but feel a bit betrayed but all of it. Fucker had the audacity to fuck off without saying a word to them. He'd spent too fucking long tryna lead this place when nobody gave a shit, and what? He just leaves and puts these two lovebirds in charge? This whole town should be torn apart for it. His fingers keep twitching as he listens to Josiah, clenching down on his weapon and feelin' hot all over. Angry. That's nothing new, he's always so damn pissy, but this is a rage he hasn't felt yet at Los Santos. Golden eyes are hot on those two faces, burning up like he wants to burn down this town. Maybe he's just not the kinda guy to take orders from a stranger. Fill Bane's shoes? Bullshit. Nobody fucking could.
V leaves most of the words to Caustic. Not much else to say when he agrees with all of it, except for some urge to argue. Leave it standing? He gets it. Bane deserves that much. He sure doesn't want to offer him anything. That hand on his neck is the only thing keeping him where he is, focus distilled down to that point of pressure on his skin instead of all the anger everywhere else.
"Only fair thing for him'd be to tear it down," he mumbles for Caustic to hear, though he reluctantly accepts that Bane deserved better than all his shit. His teeth still clench hard enough that they creak and his fingernails dig bloody grooves into his palms. There's a promise of an outlet in the sharp snap of C's hand on his skin. He calms down. Volatile spits in the dirt and turns to follow, casting a final glance to Malik. He'd been alright. More'n the rest of them, anyway.
"I don't want a fucking dog, asshole."
V leaves most of the words to Caustic. Not much else to say when he agrees with all of it, except for some urge to argue. Leave it standing? He gets it. Bane deserves that much. He sure doesn't want to offer him anything. That hand on his neck is the only thing keeping him where he is, focus distilled down to that point of pressure on his skin instead of all the anger everywhere else.
"Only fair thing for him'd be to tear it down," he mumbles for Caustic to hear, though he reluctantly accepts that Bane deserved better than all his shit. His teeth still clench hard enough that they creak and his fingernails dig bloody grooves into his palms. There's a promise of an outlet in the sharp snap of C's hand on his skin. He calms down. Volatile spits in the dirt and turns to follow, casting a final glance to Malik. He'd been alright. More'n the rest of them, anyway.
"I don't want a fucking dog, asshole."
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