𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅.
𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆.
Locked inside, he paid no mind to the sound of someone breaking in. He broke into +
Locked inside, he paid no mind to the sound of someone breaking in. He broke into +
"Maybe he had a particularly irritating body to bury. Motivates a beast quite well."
Think he was jist diggin' wi' his hands an' 'en realized ‘oh, shite, there’s enuff rubbish ah coods make a shovel?’”
Think he was jist diggin' wi' his hands an' 'en realized ‘oh, shite, there’s enuff rubbish ah coods make a shovel?’”
Think he was jist diggin' wi' his hands an' 'en realized ‘oh, shite, there’s enuff rubbish ah coods make a shovel?’”
Still digging.
I said ah think tis a moggie. Meow meow. Bit he's bin cursed.
I said ah think tis a moggie. Meow meow. Bit he's bin cursed.
What species.
Grunting, grumbling despite his flippant words.
His shovel is terrible. He's never going to find it at this rate.
“Ye got sum yer wantin’ t’ share?”
“Ye got sum yer wantin’ t’ share?”
[As if it was asking what he liked to eat for breakfast]