[ Lie better, you little shit. The only thing that saves him from Mammon catching onto the lie is the fact that he is censored.. is what he would like you to believe. With two hands still firmly planted on his shoulders, he looks down at him like he just grew a second head. His grip on him is also tightening, fingers digging into the juncture between the prosthetics and the scar tissue. ]
Who told ya you could die?! [ .. yeah, Mammon, because people have a say in shit like this. ] Who did it? Fuckin' little [ HONK ]! Who's gonna headline now? Dead Fizzie's aren't gonna sell for shit. I mean, maybe there's a necro market, I dunno. We can tap into that later.
[ Yep. Not once does he ever show any sympathy for this supposed death, he is much more concerned with how the business scales are going to tip following this bombshell. After crunching the numbers, because he is so good at math, one hand pats one of Fizz's shoulders. If anyone else had done it, it might have been a comforting gesture. ]
You're dead there, not here, my boy! [ And now he's getting hugged rather forcefully as he continues to rattle on about these newfound plans. ] A venue, a few hungry bums willing to work for scraps. It's your bog standard now but think of the fans, Fizzie, they're gonna love ya! Show 'em the act the fans paid for; nothing would make me prouder. [ Read: richer. ]
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[ Lie better, you little shit. The only thing that saves him from Mammon catching onto the lie is the fact that he is censored.. is what he would like you to believe. With two hands still firmly planted on his shoulders, he looks down at him like he just grew a second head. His grip on him is also tightening, fingers digging into the juncture between the prosthetics and the scar tissue. ]
Who told ya you could die?! [ .. yeah, Mammon, because people have a say in shit like this. ] Who did it? Fuckin' little [ HONK ]! Who's gonna headline now? Dead Fizzie's aren't gonna sell for shit. I mean, maybe there's a necro market, I dunno. We can tap into that later.
[ Yep. Not once does he ever show any sympathy for this supposed death, he is much more concerned with how the business scales are going to tip following this bombshell. After crunching the numbers, because he is so good at math, one hand pats one of Fizz's shoulders. If anyone else had done it, it might have been a comforting gesture. ]
You're dead there, not here, my boy! [ And now he's getting hugged rather forcefully as he continues to rattle on about these newfound plans. ] A venue, a few hungry bums willing to work for scraps. It's your bog standard now but think of the fans, Fizzie, they're gonna love ya! Show 'em the act the fans paid for; nothing would make me prouder. [ Read: richer. ]
What d'ya say?