hittcr.

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             “you bite and scratch, man.” which he supposed was fair. because 
sometimes you needed to. eliot was lucky enough not to have to do any of
that. not recently anyway. he offered a lopsided smile and nudged clint’s 
shoulder almost affectionately. “’m jus’ sayin’ th’ only reason you win at all 
is ‘cause i ain’t gonna fight dirty an’ completely ruin your life, man.” there
was a pause and he nodded towards one of the mats. “show me what you
got. dirty or not.” 

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     “Yeah,   & it’s never failed me.   & sometimes it’s gotten me in a good type of
pain.” The sniper grins in reply,  returning the playful nudge.  Good pain.  All the
implication, none of the actual words. Anyway, the hitter knew Clint well enough
to know that fighting ran deep in him, like a genetic mean streak. “Oh, sure. I’ve
fought alleycats with more spitfire than you – hell,     I’ve fought gentlemen who
would do better to fuck me up.” Clint returns just as snidely, his grin turning into
something like a mischievous sneer as he stepped back to the mat.      “Certain
you want to go? I don’t want t’ hear any bellyaching about it later.”

hittcr  v. company always on the run.  love these 2 fite bois  

S.MADE BY SAE.