I swear to god if I have one more friend not remember me and threaten me with violence today I'm gonna get a complex.

[ It's too uncomfortable to be anything but real. Too confusing to be anything but this sharp edged bite of genuine, fucked up reality. No hallucination. No foggy haze.

Just one of his besties painted up and glowing and a little feral. All this on the table- he gambles. Holds his hands up, palms out, unarmed. Harmless. Leans into the cool press of her gun like he's not afraid (he is he's terrified, he's been shot, he's been dead) but he feels a little like he can push his luck. ]

Pull the trigger if you wanna- just remember the deal about Delta, okay? That you'd keep him safe for me.