[ He's not really sure why he thought this would be the best idea for a job to take up, but probably half because all the sign posting jobs were taken, and he has literally nothing to offer as far as blacksmithing or serving or any kind of job that requires and sort of understanding of labor methods. That, and, he won't have to be around people to hear him sounding like he's going batshit on occasion if he's out in forest, feeding animate rose bushes gross chunks of still moist meat. Ew.
He's been here for a while already, going around to each patch to feed them, and it's sort of become a routine enough that Isaac spaces out for a moment, and one of the roses gets a tooth, or thorn, or whatever, into his actual hand, drawing a long gash across his palm. Immediately, he drops the piece he'd been holding and jerks hs hand back, personality completely snapping from the understated, blankness that it was, to an outburst of shouted cursing, expression twisted with anger and frustration. ]
Shit, you motherfucking cun-- [ He halts mid-word with mouth still open, and the expression drops completely, before his eyebrows knit, and Isaac clears his throat. One hand presses against the cut on his opposite palm, and he glances down at his feet, muttering. ] ...Not cunt.
[ That's the first time he's ever said 'cunt' in his entire life, actually. So no. Definitely not cunt. At least, not coming from him. Maybe from Mitchell White, the civic engineer he spent about the length of a year cerebrally tied to off and on again, but not him. He wonders sometimes, if Mitchell White ended up with any of Isaac's bad habits. Or if he'd even remember losing them in the first place, if he did. He shakes his head, glancing back to the hungry rose bush. ] Nevermind. Sorry.
[ Just going to apologize to the rose buse tbh, don't mind him. And, with calm, detached demeanor back in place, he goes about trying to dig in his messenger bag for something to wrap his hand with. ]
BR verse shit, hi :T lemme thread wif u
He's been here for a while already, going around to each patch to feed them, and it's sort of become a routine enough that Isaac spaces out for a moment, and one of the roses gets a tooth, or thorn, or whatever, into his actual hand, drawing a long gash across his palm. Immediately, he drops the piece he'd been holding and jerks hs hand back, personality completely snapping from the understated, blankness that it was, to an outburst of shouted cursing, expression twisted with anger and frustration. ]
Shit, you motherfucking cun-- [ He halts mid-word with mouth still open, and the expression drops completely, before his eyebrows knit, and Isaac clears his throat. One hand presses against the cut on his opposite palm, and he glances down at his feet, muttering. ] ...Not cunt.
[ That's the first time he's ever said 'cunt' in his entire life, actually. So no. Definitely not cunt. At least, not coming from him. Maybe from Mitchell White, the civic engineer he spent about the length of a year cerebrally tied to off and on again, but not him. He wonders sometimes, if Mitchell White ended up with any of Isaac's bad habits. Or if he'd even remember losing them in the first place, if he did. He shakes his head, glancing back to the hungry rose bush. ] Nevermind. Sorry.
[ Just going to apologize to the rose buse tbh, don't mind him. And, with calm, detached demeanor back in place, he goes about trying to dig in his messenger bag for something to wrap his hand with. ]