Oliver Hawthorne

Your fear becomes your master.

Damn, sometimes I wish angels were real.

Can I fire you from friendship?

GOD FORBID A MAN HAVE A PERSONALITY.

….WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THOUGHT I SUCKED?! I GAVE YOUR ASS A JOB.

…….I feel like you’re gonna say something awful.

Not it.

… honestly? Left. Didn’t plan on coming back. But…

I guess this place is my only option. (And he had grown fond of his friends… even if they didn’t care for him.)

What? You’re saying you feel better now that I’m in the room?

Rude. (/j)

Happy, uh, birthday? I don’t fuckin’ know.

Understandable. Have a space day.

Just have normal trauma.

Do you have insane trauma?

Why can’t you just have normal trauma like the rest of us?

I hate space people…

+ turned on him.

“Jesus, fuck!”

Part of Oliver wanted to just run, leave this guy to deal with the problem.

But he was trying to be better, so, against his better judgement, he sprinted forward, tackling the ghoul to the ground.

He groaned as he felt the flesh give, a sickening squelch as the ghoul’s skin tore free as it +

+ shot rang out and went wide, striking the doorframe.

“Uh, okay. Yeah, sure.”

Oliver stared, watching the feral slowly making progress on escaping. He took out his revolver and did his best to remember his training. Close one eye, deep breath in.

But the problem was… even with the training, he was a terrible shot. So when the door burst open, the +

Don’t send that freaky robot back here.

… are you talking to yourself?

Hmph…

… this feels like the start of a hate crime.

I don’t know??? Pick a size that’s close? Like shoes.

And you would? (He’s implying she ain’t got no boobs.)

Small, medium, large. Like everything else.

it depends

you got the measuring one and then the holdin’ one

Can’t trust anybody in this town.

Nah, they got measuring bras for that.

Boobs ain’t measured with letters.