Aster's expression twisted with such exaggerated shock that it almost looked comical—his jaw dropping so low it might have hit the grass. But then, the corner of his mouth twitched. Once, then twice. Until his entire face broke into an ugly, contorted grin.
"Woooo~ look who's talking!" he jeered, voice rising in a sing-song mockery. "The mighty mercenary, all swagger and blade—but still a fraud! Tell me, you fucking faker, how different are you from me, really?"
His arms flailed with theatrical flair as he laughed. "Look at yourself! Only a soft-headed saint who sees halos in hellspawn would be dumb enough to think your—ah! AH!"
A sudden yelp cut through his rant as Eryn lunged. His blade flushed in the sun, half-drawn and emitting with murderous intent.
