'I have nightmares about hell, where all I do is add up numbers and try to have conversations with people like you.' Raising sarcasm and perversion to an art form. Probably a good thing he can't get out of that skull.
Sweet, sexy peach with a touch of sour lemon. Gunpowder green for all the death and explosion Bob's managed not to be incinerated by (and those he's caused.) A touch of aromatic aniseed rounds it out. Lovingly inspired by Jim Butcher's Dresden Files.
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