[Ira moves is left arm to cover his face as he steps to the right, wincing as he feels at least one scalpel strike true and stick out of his "skin." Damn. Faster than he thought. Somewhere in the raw and seething hate, he files that away for later.]
Tomorrow's booked. Besides... [Something akin to a mixture of a feral grin and a sneer crosses his lips. Or would were it not for glamour.]
You never explained what a simile or metaphor was.
[And he was intent on at least getting an answer for that with the side of an attempt to distract.
no subject
Tomorrow's booked. Besides... [Something akin to a mixture of a feral grin and a sneer crosses his lips. Or would were it not for glamour.]
You never explained what a simile or metaphor was.
[And he was intent on at least getting an answer for that with the side of an attempt to distract.