[He continues for a while, lost in the rhythm of catch, throw, catch, throw to even remember there was a world that existed around him. It was a feeling he loved, and a feeling he often simulated by the tins of slime he was starting to down on a regular basis, again. He should really look into throwing more shit around - he hadn't done it in forever.]

[After some time, after the third gun had been kicked into the cycle and had a few goes around, he snatched the first out of the air, the second in the opposite hand, and the third sandwiched between the first two. Afterwards, they were deposited unceremoniously back on top of the pile, probably triggering another avalanche.]

Don't fuckin' matter much. A motherfucker can juggle mostly fuckin' anything what them scrawny little stick arms of his are being able to pick up.

[Gamzee seemed a little distracted as he spoke, eyeing the pile suspiciously.]