[ A knife it is then, and some small part of him can't help but feel relieved at the choice, knowing that he won't have to see Dokja's face every time he picks up his gun in the future. A reminder of all the crimes he's committed, both unwillingly and by choice. ]
Alright.
[ He follows the tug to sit, lowering himself to the ground next to the other man. From there it's just a matter of positioning himself until they're close enough, and then sliding his knife out silently from its sheath, eyes lingering on the glint of light off the blade. ]
Through the heart?
[ It's not really a question, not unless Dokja wants to die a bloody death via a slit throat, but the illusion of choice makes all this a little easier to stomach. ]
no subject
Alright.
[ He follows the tug to sit, lowering himself to the ground next to the other man. From there it's just a matter of positioning himself until they're close enough, and then sliding his knife out silently from its sheath, eyes lingering on the glint of light off the blade. ]
Through the heart?
[ It's not really a question, not unless Dokja wants to die a bloody death via a slit throat, but the illusion of choice makes all this a little easier to stomach. ]