[He had been prepared for some sort of physical violence, anything like that he could handle easily. But the alcohol in his face catches him off guard and actually pisses him off more than a punch would have.
He growls and spits, making sure none of it gets in his mouth because he's seen what that fucking liquid does to people and he wants no part of that.
His fist is almost shaking when he brings the sleeve of his sweater up to wipe it off, barely pulling it away and seeing the white stark against the black and with every bit he has to wipe away his anger grows.
Gamzee kneels on the ground as the last of that stupid fucking alcohol is wiped off his face, and almost all of his facepaint gone with it.
No one sees him without his paint, no one. And yet here this bitch was ruining it over some stupid fucking kiss that wasn't even that good.
But this means he won. He motherfucking wins cause she lost it. That thought alone, along with a mental reminder that this fucking bitch is actually friends with his moirail is the only thing that stops his hand from going to the club on his belt. But he doesn't get up from the floor, indigo eyes glaring at her from over his arms that are wrapped around his knees and covering most of his face.]
You're a lucky motherfucking bitch. Lucky I can't lay a hand on you thanks to my palebro. You should motherfucking thank him when you motherfucking see him.
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He growls and spits, making sure none of it gets in his mouth because he's seen what that fucking liquid does to people and he wants no part of that.
His fist is almost shaking when he brings the sleeve of his sweater up to wipe it off, barely pulling it away and seeing the white stark against the black and with every bit he has to wipe away his anger grows.
Gamzee kneels on the ground as the last of that stupid fucking alcohol is wiped off his face, and almost all of his facepaint gone with it.
No one sees him without his paint, no one. And yet here this bitch was ruining it over some stupid fucking kiss that wasn't even that good.
But this means he won. He motherfucking wins cause she lost it. That thought alone, along with a mental reminder that this fucking bitch is actually friends with his moirail is the only thing that stops his hand from going to the club on his belt. But he doesn't get up from the floor, indigo eyes glaring at her from over his arms that are wrapped around his knees and covering most of his face.]
You're a lucky motherfucking bitch. Lucky I can't lay a hand on you thanks to my palebro. You should motherfucking thank him when you motherfucking see him.