And then, ridiculously, abruptly, infuriatingly, the man starts laughing at him. An unfriendly, contemptuous sound, which is absurd because everyone knows that Nicholas fucking Rush is the prime dispenser of all things contempt- and sarcasm-related.
"Oh, fuck off," he snaps, an extremely ineloquent response especially when one considers the statistical average word count of the well-crafted educational responses he's had to this man's past obvious lunacy. "There's another logical fallacy, right fucking there, assumption of instability following a fundamental disagreement of opinion in order to further discredit my argument without actually taking the time to fucking listen to it."
Never mind that the assumption of mental instability is true, Rush is aware of this fact, has been aware of this fact for a large percentage of his life, and has decided that he, unequivocally, does not give a fuck. It has not held him back before and it will not now, no matter how fucking archaic the shooter's understanding of how panic and subpar mental states work may be.
"I am fine," he continues with savage abandon, in what is probably deeply unconvincing imitation of stability seeing as he is still fucking seething. "Neurologically, internally, mentally, cognitively, in all ways that one can be considered to be fucking fine. It's not my fault this fucking - dream and or simulation has evidently decided to lump me along with this - the fucking cat, then throw a man with poor aim and a breathtaking absence of common fucking sense and his horse at me without any warning whatsoever."
no subject
"Oh, fuck off," he snaps, an extremely ineloquent response especially when one considers the statistical average word count of the well-crafted educational responses he's had to this man's past obvious lunacy. "There's another logical fallacy, right fucking there, assumption of instability following a fundamental disagreement of opinion in order to further discredit my argument without actually taking the time to fucking listen to it."
Never mind that the assumption of mental instability is true, Rush is aware of this fact, has been aware of this fact for a large percentage of his life, and has decided that he, unequivocally, does not give a fuck. It has not held him back before and it will not now, no matter how fucking archaic the shooter's understanding of how panic and subpar mental states work may be.
"I am fine," he continues with savage abandon, in what is probably deeply unconvincing imitation of stability seeing as he is still fucking seething. "Neurologically, internally, mentally, cognitively, in all ways that one can be considered to be fucking fine. It's not my fault this fucking - dream and or simulation has evidently decided to lump me along with this - the fucking cat, then throw a man with poor aim and a breathtaking absence of common fucking sense and his horse at me without any warning whatsoever."