[Following the familiar smell of scorched flesh leads Rubedo to the workshop, where he certainly sees a sight. 'Sup, Eric? Have a murderchild staring almost impassively, save for his eyebrows knitted in frustration. Noticeably, his right hand is bandaged with a strip if cloth over the palm.]
Do you want me to do that? I've seen enough burned bodies that it doesn't bother me.
no subject
Do you want me to do that? I've seen enough burned bodies that it doesn't bother me.