texts: Why would you want me to kill you? </s> <s> Let's just say we have a destiny to fulfil, you and I. </s> <s> I think you're full of shit.
labels: No, It's you that is full of shit. And blood. And bones. A typically imperfect organic being. You've been hopelessly predictable all along, but you're going to have to do better than that now.