[OH MY GOD. FUCK YOU, LUCIFER. HE DID NOT ASK FOR THIS. Des looks at the robes and makes a whining sound, and mutters under his breath:] So would a leather jacket.
[But he tromps on, listening. This is a blast from the past he did not want or need, but here he is. Wandering. He crosses his arms over his chest petulantly.]
no subject
[But he tromps on, listening. This is a blast from the past he did not want or need, but here he is. Wandering. He crosses his arms over his chest petulantly.]