I can get myself out of trouble. Real bad trouble too. (He actually is pretty awful at all that, but he does his absolute best. He would do an even better job of it if it was to help out a friend too.
He has arguments on what constitutes as a serious and non-serious injury. But for now, he will hold his tongue. It takes a lot of effort to do that, so Hawke should feel lucky.)
Maybe. That doesn't sound like a half-bad idea for an invention. You should um-. What's the word. (He waves his hand around, before snapping his fingers.) Oh! Trademark it.
(Being beaten up by other children, and the occasional child-starved demon, was what Eddie was particularly good at. He had a fat ole target on his entire existence that screamed for that kinda thing.
His eyes do light up at the mental image of Henry's ass on fire. It outright makes him giggle.)
Oh, Jesus. I haven't, but I'd pay to.
(He'd use up all his allowances. He's pretty sure the rest of the Losers would too.
Eddie nods eagerly. He has never signed something before! At least not like this. A very exciting day for him. He pulls out from his pocket a sort of marker thing. It's a space-marker, as he wisely has dubbed it, gotten in trade at Kaittos. It was sorta more of a paint-stick, but hey. Worked.
He holds her arm carefully and considers the cast and what he should put. He isn't artistic. He also isn't as funny as Richie nor word-thoughtful as Bill. He taps the end of the marker against his chin, thinking hard. Probably too hard.
Finally, he writes out a careful, probably-too-large message across her cast of: Thank you.
It seemed really dumb, he realizes, as he signs his name beneath it with a crude smiley face. But that whole allergy thing? He can't...really express that properly. So this was what he could do.)
no subject
He has arguments on what constitutes as a serious and non-serious injury. But for now, he will hold his tongue. It takes a lot of effort to do that, so Hawke should feel lucky.)
Maybe. That doesn't sound like a half-bad idea for an invention. You should um-. What's the word. (He waves his hand around, before snapping his fingers.) Oh! Trademark it.
(Being beaten up by other children, and the occasional child-starved demon, was what Eddie was particularly good at. He had a fat ole target on his entire existence that screamed for that kinda thing.
His eyes do light up at the mental image of Henry's ass on fire. It outright makes him giggle.)
Oh, Jesus. I haven't, but I'd pay to.
(He'd use up all his allowances. He's pretty sure the rest of the Losers would too.
Eddie nods eagerly. He has never signed something before! At least not like this. A very exciting day for him. He pulls out from his pocket a sort of marker thing. It's a space-marker, as he wisely has dubbed it, gotten in trade at Kaittos. It was sorta more of a paint-stick, but hey. Worked.
He holds her arm carefully and considers the cast and what he should put. He isn't artistic. He also isn't as funny as Richie nor word-thoughtful as Bill. He taps the end of the marker against his chin, thinking hard. Probably too hard.
Finally, he writes out a careful, probably-too-large message across her cast of: Thank you.
It seemed really dumb, he realizes, as he signs his name beneath it with a crude smiley face. But that whole allergy thing? He can't...really express that properly. So this was what he could do.)