Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you've seen the Irish? They're all Irish. You think I'm a monster, I'm jello shots at a party, I just remove inihibations.
I'm going to kill you myself.
Oh, that's adorable, considering you're my poster boy.
What's that supposed to mean?
You can't stop thinking about it, ever since you saw it dripping off the blade of that knife.
You're wrong.
Save your protests for your brother, I can see inside your head. And it is a one-track city in there. Blood, blood, blood. Lust for power, same as always. You want to be strong again, but not just strong, stronger than everybody. Good intentions, quick slide to Hell, buddy boy.
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