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“O’? Es a reason ya want fur th’ visit?” Unfortunately for her, that sort of attitude was practically a common trait amongst those in the Vatican. Even amongst ordinary Priests in the Catholic. But the Paladin would rather be damned than act as though he were as low as the filth that polluted this land. And whether or not this woman was one of the more brutal people in this country or not, she certainly didn’t intimidate him. And he made sure she knew that.
“An’ wha’ if ah don’ ‘ave one?”
A single eyebrow twitched repeatedly with irritation. Oh, this guy.
This fuckin’ guy.
Even in Roanapur, she wasn’t used to this sort of bullshit. Everyone knew about Revy; Two-Hands, they called her. A loaded pistol waiting for a trigger, a stick of dynamite ready to ignite at a moment’s notice – if even a notice at all. There were the few that fucked with her, but usually with physical strength – not mere holier-than-thou heh attitude and talk bigger than his accent.
“Don’t have none, huh? In that case, you’d better go bother some other busy guy. Dutch hates when I make a mess on the carpet.”
“Really now? Ya look as busy as ‘nyone else ‘n this God-forsaken place.” He remarked in a slightly smug tone of voice. He was well aware that this place was a far cry from the comforts of the Vatican. But Anderson wasn’t the slightest bit concerned by this. Roanapur might be a living Hell for the people here, but it still paled in comparison tothe other “living Hell’s” he’s gone to, all of which he came out of alive.
“… I’m savin’ my energy for this undoubtedly important and interesting reason you have for wastin’ my time.”
She wasn’t a big fan of his tone; she hated when people swaggered on through the streets like they were better than anything here. Sure, Revy herself felt that way herself sometimes – but she’d been here for God knows how long. People like him? Unless he was a special snowflake, he wouldn’t make it a week here. … In fact, a week was a pretty big stretch.
