[ boothill, hatless, is right up in his cell in the security room. he's kicked the bed in half and trashed whatever was on it. his knuckles have been beat up and scratched where they've fruitlessly punched at the walls, the iron sharp and frayed and broken, exposing the shadows and some wires underneath.
he's standing in the middle of the room, facing the broken bits of the bed. his head whips to whoever's walked in on him, his eye still glowing, sharp teeth bared in a scowl.
poor rupert. he does not eat anything.... let alone steak.... he can't even appreciate it because he's (static noises) ]
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w0, saturday
Hey, Boothill.
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he's standing in the middle of the room, facing the broken bits of the bed. his head whips to whoever's walked in on him, his eye still glowing, sharp teeth bared in a scowl.
poor rupert. he does not eat anything.... let alone steak.... he can't even appreciate it because he's (static noises) ]
Let me outta here.
no subject
I can't do that. [...] What happened?