“Who the fuck are you?”
Supposedly, Siberian doesn’t talk, so I doubt you’ll get an answer to that from the tiger’s mouth.
I wonder if setting up this was part of why Bitch was absent from Coil’s exposition about the Fellowship of the Meat.
The woman didn’t reply. She crouched down beside the man, then shifted her position so she was sitting sideways, her legs stretched out beside her.
Paint me like one of your French tigers…
Her fingertips traced the man’s injuries, almost lovingly.
Because of course she appreciates that.
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