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[ Scratches? Check. Bruises? Check. Big ol' grin that says he could care less? Check. Obnoxiously loud announcement that is superfluous information to about 80% of Discedo? ]
HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT?! WE'VE GOT TWO NEW SMILING COWS WITH FLOATING HOOVES AT THE STABLES AND YOU HAVE ME TO THANK!!
[ ...check. ]
I'll accept gifts as tokens of your appreciation, but a simple thanks is good enough for me! See, People in Charge? This is why I asked for horses! The little plastic one ya gave me wasn't much help! Still, too bad I didn't record it, my wrangling skills are pretty impressive when I've only got my bare hands. Just ask Norway!
Oh, speaking of which Nor, I got myself all fixed up! I even made it festive!
[ America sets the communicator down on the table. Surely he's about to just show off an impressive bruise on his abdomen or something? No. No he's not.
He's turning around.
And pulling down his fucking pants.
Say hello to America's ass. There's a discolored wound on the right cheek, but that's not the point. The point is that his stitches are in the shape of a heart. America glances over his shoulder, grinning like a frat boy who just mooned the cops, and wiggles his hips a bit. ]
JUST FOR YOU, DISCEDO! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
[ He laughs like the greatest gift he could possibly give the city: a look at his ass. It would probably be better if it wasn't, you know, wounded. You're welcome regardless. ]
HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT?! WE'VE GOT TWO NEW SMILING COWS WITH FLOATING HOOVES AT THE STABLES AND YOU HAVE ME TO THANK!!
[ ...check. ]
I'll accept gifts as tokens of your appreciation, but a simple thanks is good enough for me! See, People in Charge? This is why I asked for horses! The little plastic one ya gave me wasn't much help! Still, too bad I didn't record it, my wrangling skills are pretty impressive when I've only got my bare hands. Just ask Norway!
Oh, speaking of which Nor, I got myself all fixed up! I even made it festive!
[ America sets the communicator down on the table. Surely he's about to just show off an impressive bruise on his abdomen or something? No. No he's not.
He's turning around.
And pulling down his fucking pants.
Say hello to America's ass. There's a discolored wound on the right cheek, but that's not the point. The point is that his stitches are in the shape of a heart. America glances over his shoulder, grinning like a frat boy who just mooned the cops, and wiggles his hips a bit. ]
JUST FOR YOU, DISCEDO! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
[ He laughs like the greatest gift he could possibly give the city: a look at his ass. It would probably be better if it wasn't, you know, wounded. You're welcome regardless. ]
