He does look like a nice guy, just don’t make him use his Scary Voice XD
Red, who has been almost completely absent since the HORRENDOUS season finale, just popped in to laugh and say “I’m both impressed and flattered.”
Powerless Red can’t really do much that would actually HURT Nick so that’s pretty accurate lmao
“Thank you!” he smiled, “You know, the man who sold this to me had a cat–rangey little thing, really–who would always walk into the room while he was working on the blocking of a new hat. Alfredo called him spillone, ‘hat pin’, because he’d always protect the pincushion. Imagine, if you will, a cat with the body of a long-distance runner, curled up around the pincushion, purring.” Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the cat was still alive, it had been a while since he’d been to Alfredo’s millinery. “Didn’t let anyone but Alfredo touch them, either, until one day, I chanced it.” Red took another sip, laughing, “I’m surprised I didn’t need to reattach any of my fingers.”
dkfjhsflj Thank friend <3 <3
Ray cocked an eyebrow at the agent, but he managed to keep the smirk off his face. “Agent Ressler, if you wanted to kill me, you’d already have emptied that clip into my center mass.” He took a step forward, defiant, though his hands were at his side, palms facing the man still aiming a gun right at his head. “You’re waiting for something…either you think I have some information for you, or,” another step forward, letting the barrel of the gun rest between his eyes, “Despite our current stations…I think you might just like me.”
“No, it’s a very rare African snake, very poisonous….best not to move.” Ray couldn’t help himself, though he devolved into chuckles, burying his face in Don’s shoulder, nipping just to startle him. “Yes. It’s my hand.”
They were fighting, he hated it when they were fighting. Every muscle under his skin was taut, coiled like too many agitated snakes, and he wanted it to stop. Donald cared–perhaps too much–and showed no signs of stopping, but there was only so much Red was capable. of. “Enough!” he raised his voice, something he’d done so seldomly he knew how much weight it would carry, especially now.
Then, barely above a whisper, “You can’t fix me, Donald. My scars and malfunctions are as much a part of me as my lungs. Without them, I’m nothing.”
Red looked down at the river they were sitting on the bank of, a few fish that were swimming by kept his attention, though he heard every word.
“Would that I could forget some of it, Donald.”