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Well, that thought quickly ended when.. he heard the door to his "office" open. And well, there he was. A strange-(TALL. :/3), person with the bottom of their holster, most likely a bladeeee, pushing the door open, before letting it rest back on their waist.

"... Hello there, I believe your looking for me?,, Perhaps you should, find some better guards. Your's didn't even last very long."

“…I had a feeling they were incompetent. I was going to try and find you, but it looks like you found me instead. Maybe I’ve been a bit too careless.”

"Not careless, curious. But I believe we both know what we want, don't we?"

“…I believe so.”

"Good, because I'm getting tired of constantly explaining what my ideas are to "victims", finally i can just listen to someone. You know how boring it gets when the people you kill always say the same thing?"

“they’re simple minded.”

"Exactly."

He sat down in a chair in front of him-

"Like come on, at least be original with your insults. They always calm me a "pyscho", or, "bitch". At least one of them called me a fuck-wad. That almost tempted me to spare them, hehe!"

“one said that I’m the one customer at Starbucks that holds up the line picking a drink and the more people tell them about it, they say they’re gonna take longer to choose now. And he chose that to be his last words. I don’t know what he was on.”

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".. Well jeez, some guy I had told me I looked like Mike wazowski if someone tried making him in a realistic side, then snorted pixey dust for an hour straight. "

“Wow.”

(did you die?)