Many, yes. [Too many. You could kill a lot of people in an hour when you did not tire and were better, by far, than any of them. He doesn't bother to explain right now. Maybe when Etelo is older he will, if the boy is still interested in his dear old ugly father by then. He struggles to his feet, suddenly dizzy from the head wound that still makes fresh blood run down his back. He doesn't so much as press his hand to it to stop it as he walks with his son, too focused on him and not meeting the ground again.]
What do you like to eat? You barely ate anything that wasn't mashed when last I saw you.
no subject
What do you like to eat? You barely ate anything that wasn't mashed when last I saw you.