We need more IC'ing methinks. In the scummiest most pissing off able way possible :)
Van: But what has your character ever done that matters?
Mr. Blood: Hell boy I gotta agree there. Them boys are a damn sight worse that even this shitty whiskey.
*Mr. Blood throws a bottle at a spot a few inches away from Gabriel, laughing as it shatters*
Mr. Blood: As for you though, you holier-than-thou types get the hell on my nerves, I mean where the fuck do you come off tryin to tell me whether or not I can roll a bit of grass up or have a fuckin beer, or God fucking Forbid use my natural gifts, and I do mean fucking Gifts, to fuck some of the finer Biker Bunnies that come and flash their titties at us as we ride from town to town.
Mr. Black: Amen brother.
Mr. Blood: You make me fucking sick. You better pray really fucking hard tonight and for the rest of your fucking life that you never end up in that ring looking across at Black Blooded. Because if that day arrives we will tear you up into more pieces than St. Hippolytus
*With a final Glare, Black Blooded walk off, beer bottles in hand.*
*Ano Doom is doing something almost strangely out of character for him...Sitting down...at a desk...Writting on paper with a pencil...He is leaned slightly over it...His massive frame easily covers whatever it may be. As he writes...with his other hand...He slams a fist into the table over and over and over...on fire as usual. Then he backs the chair up just enough to see what it says.*
*Its actually...Shockingly, remarkably, unbelievably neat and pristine looking for Ano Doom's handwriting...If one didn't just watch him...they'd think he didn't actually write it down himself. Next, he takes the pencil and inverts it, erasing every single trace of "Jackson Smith" on the paper. Then he snaps the pencil to several pieces with one squeeze, rips and rips the paper over and over to nothing, balling and shredding it at the same time, then gets up and starts forearming the table to pieces, until its wooden chunks at his feet.*
Ano Doom: Heed that metaphor, Jackson. But its when I say, Remember that.
OOC: Vintage Ano Doom!
*D-Boy walks in... with no alcohol in sight.*
D-Boy: Alright boys, I need to hit the gym! I'm not losing to those nerds again!
*D-Boy starts lifting weights*