Armada higher ups have decided they can dictate who we're friends with, now.
(Can you hear the fuck that and fuck them in their tone, Hawks?
Most of the cells they're passing appear to be empty, contents freed. A small animal with crystals covering its face and clouding its eyes is stumbling around in confusion. Suddenly, it turns and shambles over to join the pack of dogs following Chris, despite clearly being unable to see or understand what's going on.)
no subject
(Can you hear the fuck that and fuck them in their tone, Hawks?
Most of the cells they're passing appear to be empty, contents freed. A small animal with crystals covering its face and clouding its eyes is stumbling around in confusion. Suddenly, it turns and shambles over to join the pack of dogs following Chris, despite clearly being unable to see or understand what's going on.)