Sometimes shit happens. Hey, it's not always your day, it's alright. One moment you're riding high, soaring above these mud-riddled plains with the king of mercs by your side, another, you're running far away from the crater he blew himself up in. Y...
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And he was there. Standing tall, a halo of sunlight glimmering around – warming the old bones, further rotting the indolent shell. Andy couldn't even attempt to move a muscle.
"... What?" W asked. "What's with those eyes? The "girl" part of the song is a line open to mutual interpretation. I wasn't saying I transitioned or anything."
"..." Andrew stared.
"... What?" W asked again, incredulous and all. "I'm not saying I wouldn't be open to the idea of dropping a few pounds and growing my hair out either. It's not like I hate women, you know? Despite what Hedley and his goat hag might have you believe, I'm not a raging chauvinist. I love women. I love those guys who do dress-up, too."
"..." Andrew stared.
"... Oh, what?" W asked, now full of bratty annoyance. "Is that it? White City's so great an amazing until you go around openly praising faggots, huh? Grow a spine, Law-man, it's the brink of the twelfth century. Faggots as far as the eye can see."
"..." Andy couldn't find it in himself to stare any longer. With a weary, strained sigh, he padded away from the blade's corpse and began sitting up. "You can't... You can't say that, W."
"Say what?"
"The, uh. F thing. Faggot, you can't say that."
"Why not?" He seemed genuinely confused. "Everyone says that."
"It's a bad word." Andy explained. What compelled him to explain the concept of slurs to his dead first-in-command like he was five, he didn't know. "It's like devil. Devils, Sarkaz, devil–... Like Lawie. Like you calling me a Lawie, that's the same."
"Yeah." W eagerly helped him up. The barbed wire vining cross his form rattled maliciously. "As I said, everyone says that. I don't get your point, Lawdog."
"Forget it."
Andy stood up. His legs felt like cotton, like they would bend and break under the smallest gust of wind. A heavy stench lingered in the air, wafting off in waterfalls from W's rotting body.
"You shoot that?" He asked. Andy's eyes were led to the Blade's corpse, swiftly after W's boot made contact with its unmoving occiput.
