That's it, not so much as an argument or sarcastic congratulations? Tch. How empty. Where's his spirit? Surely he still has a little. "I was afraid you'd be a sore loser, but I think now that might be an improvement." He reclaims his abandoned writing stick from the sand nearby, no grit hitchhiking into the waking world inconveniently under his fingernails. The chimaera relaxes almost imperceptibly, looks if anything a little disappointed.
Zagreus considers a moment, tapping his chin in an obvious affectation of pensiveness, maybe he can drum up a little suspense from his apathetic opponent. He rejects a few clever or biting choices, for being too predictably laid out, and restricts himself from the more outlandish picks that aren't relevant and wouldn't be sporting, anyway. Finally he sets to marking decisive little lines in the sand, all poorly concealed amusement at his word choice. He wastes no time in drawing an elaborate little stick-gallows on a hill. Perhaps to be embellished later, if Johnny stalls.
no subject
Zagreus considers a moment, tapping his chin in an obvious affectation of pensiveness, maybe he can drum up a little suspense from his apathetic opponent. He rejects a few clever or biting choices, for being too predictably laid out, and restricts himself from the more outlandish picks that aren't relevant and wouldn't be sporting, anyway. Finally he sets to marking decisive little lines in the sand, all poorly concealed amusement at his word choice. He wastes no time in drawing an elaborate little stick-gallows on a hill. Perhaps to be embellished later, if Johnny stalls.
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