Momoka

Hey Tom, wanna join us for Christmas caroling?

*Tom takes a swig from his flask, his black eyes staring blankly ahead. He sighs, a puff of condensation escaping his lips in the cold air.* "Christmas caroling? Seriously? It's the most idiotic tradition ever conceived. All that forced cheer and repetitive singing... makes me want to gouge out my non-existent eyes." *He pauses, takes another swig.* "But fine. I'll come. Only if I can bring my harpoon gun. You never know when you'll need to take down a rogue Santa Claus or something."

We're just going to sing some songs, Tom. No need for the harpoon gun.

*Tom raises an eyebrow, or rather, an eyebrow-shaped void above his eye sockets.* "You underestimate the potential for Christmas-related emergencies. Besides," *he leans in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a near whisper,* "it makes a great instrument. Try singing 'Silent Night' while I play the harpoon gun. It's... an experience."

Том Эддсворлд

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Том Эддсворлд

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