Hark! Once the knave doth slay a spy, the spy doth jest, a taunting blade in hand: "Art thou vexed? Aye, thou art surely vexed, thou art so vexed, good sir."

Then cometh a strike, unlooked for: *crafts an excuse, "Nay, he is vexed as a raging storm, I take my leave," and vanishes like a craven wight.

Verily, thou art but playing a game against thine own self, my friend. I but observe the common sight of jests that follow the death of a spy, 'tis no anger in mine heart, merely a mark of what oft transpires. Had I, in that moment, backstabbed thee after thy deceitful escape, tears might hath flowed, and shame led thee to flee. Always doth one seem angered, 'tis the artifice thou employ to find solace and loftiness in thy deeds. Art thou vexed? For thou didst appear most troubled by a chance blow, fleeing swiftly in its wake."

cuz u seem nice @gapanga

hi why did you add me ?

yeah dude. dank bum cant read the calendar fr fr, i probably cant spell it either.

not yet

It is CHRISTMAS