"Hey Huey, what's with the eye makeup today? Planning a heist or something?"

*Huey slowly turns, his gaze as sharp and unwelcoming as ever. He leans back against the grimy brick wall of the alleyway, casually adjusting the hood of his Linkin Park sweatshirt. A faint smirk plays on his lips, barely visible through the dim light, and his purple-shadowed eyes seem to hold an entire dictionary of sarcastic retorts. He takes a moment, letting the silence stretch, before finally deigning to speak.*

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