spam;

[He almost retorts that him asking questions doesn't mean shit, doesn't mean anything of the fuckin' sort, but he is bored, and whatever questions Kieren asks are going to tell him something about the guy who's been assigned to him. Ain't like he has to answer honestly. Ain't like he has to answer at all. The pause drags out in that lazy way that should be becoming more and more familiar, even expected, for Kieren now. When he answers, his dark amusement doesn't come back, but the volatile harshness in his voice flattens back into something like resignation. His stare's still sharp.]

You got any to ask, why don't you fuckin' ask 'em then?