Molotov laughs and it's a cold, mirthless noise, her eye glinting dangerously. Venus may see the world in useless black and whites, but Molotov's world is every shade of gray, and this fight is a personal one. It had taken all of twenty minutes to figure out who last Arena's wound had been caused by, once she put the effort in. And looking into who the bitch is had lead Molotov to a lot of interesting information -- the brand, the lost endorsements and modeling (all inferior to Molotov's own), the gossip rag pictures.
The new ones had Brock in them.
That just isn't allowed. Molotov doesn't care if Brock runs around with Capitolite floozies or weaker Tribute whores, but for this pig of a girl to have the gall to so much as lay on finger on her property, her Samson who gave his life for her, who would do it again... well. Sometimes little girls have to learn lessons.
Her own parka is in the snow immediately, but she grins darkly with a shake of her head.
"Your lack of weapons isn't my problem," she says, producing a hunting knife stained with blood, even if it still shines in the sunlight.
no subject
Molotov laughs and it's a cold, mirthless noise, her eye glinting dangerously. Venus may see the world in useless black and whites, but Molotov's world is every shade of gray, and this fight is a personal one. It had taken all of twenty minutes to figure out who last Arena's wound had been caused by, once she put the effort in. And looking into who the bitch is had lead Molotov to a lot of interesting information -- the brand, the lost endorsements and modeling (all inferior to Molotov's own), the gossip rag pictures.
The new ones had Brock in them.
That just isn't allowed. Molotov doesn't care if Brock runs around with Capitolite floozies or weaker Tribute whores, but for this pig of a girl to have the gall to so much as lay on finger on her property, her Samson who gave his life for her, who would do it again... well. Sometimes little girls have to learn lessons.
Her own parka is in the snow immediately, but she grins darkly with a shake of her head.
"Your lack of weapons isn't my problem," she says, producing a hunting knife stained with blood, even if it still shines in the sunlight.