originally posted in:The New Dojo
"In all h-," the man spoke with the infliction of gravel tread upon by shoe soles, a burp undercutting his statement and making him forget what he was saying.
"...is glory," Sawyer finished and gave a slow half-nod to the person addressing him. People in the Dojo knew who he was, yes, but avoided him like the plague. It was unlikely the person addressing him had no ulterior motive. But despite suspicion, Sawyer outstretched his bottle, tremors rippling through his hand and making some of the swill drop from the throat of the concoction.
English
-
[i]The man that now approached was a little on the shorter side, about five-foot-four. He wore the clothes of any unsavory character in a roller rink, as well as the grin of that most undesirable person, the gangster -clown. His round face jiggled somewhat as he approached Sawyer, his faith that of either a confident or foolish man.[/i] "[b]Boo, b*tch. Name's [url=https://pin.it/CoYMAvY]Sykes[/url]. I'm here as a representative of our mutual green-armor clad friend. He thought id find you here, but had elsewise business to attend to before he could think about making compliments. "By the way, he says good job on that body double. Me personally, I gotta ask,[/b]" [i]Sykes sat in the swivel stool a space apart from Sawyer at the bar, unconcerned with the slightly disgusted looks being thrown his way.[/i] "[b]Was it a clone, or just some fool off the streets? And also, what the hell are you doing, unless you intend on following them down the final barbecue?[/b]"