[67] life's a game we're meant to lose

[buildstherobots]

[phone]

Fine. You people want to play that way?

Enjoy educating newcomers by yourselves. I'm done helping you.

[And, true to his word, he won't be handing out any more letters, at least for the moment. Explain what he's talking about? Why in the world would he do that? Obviously the actions of maybe three people is enough for him to throw a tantrum over the phone lines.]

[action]

[Anyone who might see Dist walking through the streets can see that he's an absolute wreck. Not emotionally -- his expression is uncharacteristically stony. It's his face that's busted up, bruised across his cheek and mouth and his left eye patched over. Well, the place where his left eye should be, but that's not exactly visible. It'd happened a couple of days ago, but that's not quite long enough to heal fully, so for now he's just combed his hair forward a bit in an attempt to cover it all up.

He does seem to have a destination in mind, though, as he's walking particularly quickly.]

[729 Anderson lane]

[KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.]

Comments

[phone]

[withwinter.livejournal.com]

But what will all of those poor people do without your help?

[buildstherobots.livejournal.com]

Why should that be my problem?

[withwinter.livejournal.com]

Didn't you find it enjoyable to do?

[buildstherobots.livejournal.com]

Not when they take advantage of my generosity.