Hank smacks his chest one last time for good measure before clearing his throat.
“Is that what I got to look forward to here? A whole lot of mass murderers and serial killers, and who the hell knows what else?”
His voice is a little raspy. Eyes darting over the stretch of table closest to them, and thankfully there’s something that looks sort of like punch. He grabs a cup, uses the ladle to pour some in, and when he brings it to his lips it’s some weird spicy drink that leaves his throat burning, because of course it is.
“This place is trying to kill me already,” Hank mutters. “And here I thought I was a shitty rep for my world. I mean, no offense. Unless that’s the sort of criteria these people are lookin’ for.”
He would hope not, but what does Hank know about all this multiverse nonsense?
This guy doesn’t seem like he’s bullshitting; he seems so nonchalant about it and it’s setting off alarm bells.
Still, Hank has to ask: “So, you kill anyone here yet?”
no subject
“Is that what I got to look forward to here? A whole lot of mass murderers and serial killers, and who the hell knows what else?”
His voice is a little raspy. Eyes darting over the stretch of table closest to them, and thankfully there’s something that looks sort of like punch. He grabs a cup, uses the ladle to pour some in, and when he brings it to his lips it’s some weird spicy drink that leaves his throat burning, because of course it is.
“This place is trying to kill me already,” Hank mutters. “And here I thought I was a shitty rep for my world. I mean, no offense. Unless that’s the sort of criteria these people are lookin’ for.”
He would hope not, but what does Hank know about all this multiverse nonsense?
This guy doesn’t seem like he’s bullshitting; he seems so nonchalant about it and it’s setting off alarm bells.
Still, Hank has to ask: “So, you kill anyone here yet?”