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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, GAMZEE MAKARA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 420.42.042.04 *** G-MAK has joined 420.42.042.04 <G-MAK> YO, MY RIGHTEOUS BROTHERS AND GODDAMN BITCHES. <G-MAK> if you all is wanting to be all placing at a mother fucking order with me. <G-MAK> LEAVE AT A BROTHER SOME WICKED FUCKING TEXTUALS. <G-MAK> oh and another motherfuckin thing. <G-MAK> SEXTS IS ALWAYS FUCKIN WELCOME. ;o) | ||||
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Hahaha, you chill, bro...?
[Munching on his own treat, Gamzee reaches over with a free arm to push at Henry's shoulder playfully.]
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[He massages the side of his head to help the muscles finish un-tensing, still humming. No real song in particular though. Luckily, his head's too foggy for him to feel any kind of guilt. He also finds it comforting that the brownie isn't nearly as strong as the time he got blasted in the alleyway. He still had a vague idea of what day it was.]
[The shove pulls him out of a half daydream and startles him into drawing away. He does NOT want to get stuck to this guy again.]
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[When Henry recoils, Gamzee's face draws up into a concerned expression... though it's more of a hazy concern, at best.]
Whoaaa... ain't gonna hurt you, motherfucker!
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[He eyes his shoulder just to make sure none of that horrible sap and or blood is hanging off of him. Then he leans back and props himself up on his hands.]
How many cops do you think you could beat at once?
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[He's grinning while he says it, though, folding his arms and leaning back against the tree to stare up the trunk again. Trippy.]
Uhh... huh?
[Focus, Gamzee. It took him a while to process what he'd just been asked, mainly because he was too absorbed in the way the hollow tree looked when you could see the sky out of the top of it. When Henry would undoubtedly repeat himself, Gamzee began to chew on one of his claws in consideration.]
Hmmn, uh, whoa, yo... dunno. Probably, like, all of them, for sure!
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Woah.
[That was so many cops. Like. More than five. Maybe seven!]