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a*****e.

d**k, p***k, jerkface dickbutt!


Otto fought to keep his breathing even. It did not work. He was angry. Angry at Lawr for being an a**. Angry at himself that his words actually hurt his feelings. He wanted to say something smart. Something hurtful. Something that could put him on top.

But he wasn't smart enough. He couldn't think of anything. All he could do was feel.

He tried to remember he was here to work. Keep an eye on the terrain. Look for inconsistencies. Look for abnormalities, and other long words he knew of but could never speak or spell without enormous difficulty.

"Executioners usually have a kill or two under their belt." He muttered gruffly, "You're still breathin'."

What did Lawr get out of all this. Was worming his way into other's insecurities and weaknesses some sort of kink? Did he feed off it? The man seemed to be in love with himself the way he spoke as if untouchable. Otto tried in vain not to care enough to listen; however, he was too curious not to by nature. He was on high alert, and ignoring this man talking seemed a bad idea at the time.

By kills, he'd first assumed creatures. And those he sure there were many. However, his way of asking and the way it reminded him of certain experiences.. Otto came to realize he might be talking about fellow hunters, or even people.

He'd watched others die, some in his arms. He'd been helpless as someone close to him was killed right in front of him. He couldn't call those the kills of an executioner, but it did what he assumed Lawr had hoped for; it set him off balance emotionally. Just remembering them, even below the surface, made him shudder and want to explode.

He nearly tripped over a root, nearly smacked by a branch, all because he was too focused on the pain of those memories. His face was beet red, and it felt hotter than the core of the Earth.

Why bother answering that man's question, he thought. What good would handing over all this power over his emotions to that man accomplish? Lawr likely already knew Otto was easy to rile up. Likely knew he was already nearing the edges of his tolerance. But he felt helpless to the jabs and perfect shots. Unguarded despite expecting it all.

"What's it to you?" He grumbled some more, fighting through gritted teeth to keep the hurt and anger out of his voice. Of all people, why? Why'd it have to be Lawr? What good did this man give to this organizations cause?

"You don't even ******** care. So don't ask me that s**t."

"Yeah, well your curiosity ain't gettin' fed by me." He was in no way going to reveal his inner turmoil. Not to a many who clearly liked exploiting such things. It was bad enough to show as much reaction as he was giving. But for Otto, this was as strong as he could resist him.

He scoffed openly at Lawr, giving the man a bitterly sour side glance as he caught up. "You? Warm and cuddly? I have a hard time belivin' that one." He turned away again and kicked a rock across the pathway, hard. "That's some act, then. But no one trusts a jackass who pokes fun at people's pain." He spat in retort.

He was so mad it was making him sick. Men like this trying to upset him, throwing him off, catch him at his worst and exploiting whatever came of it. He knew the type a little too well, even if Lawr himself was much more calculating about it.

"Uh huh." He drawled with a barely steady breath in, "Yeah, I'll get right on to learnin' s**t n' betterin' myself. I'm sure it'll be real ******** helpful and enlightening. I loved learnin' so much growin' up, I'm sure I just forgot what I was ********' missing." The bitterness in his voice was sharp and foul.

He was careful to avoid even glaring at Lawrence for his last comment. No more, no more weakness in front of him. He couldn't afford it. He kept his mouth shut tight, breathing audibly through his nose in vain attempts at calming down.

What Otto hated most about Lawr at that moment, was that he was absolutely correct. He hated that he was right on the money. He hated that the pieces fell into place. That it made perfect sense. Fear of failure. Fear in general. He was always angry because he was alway afraid. Even when he'd shot the man, he'd been afraid. He was always on edge, looking for the opportunity to shoot first, before someone beat him to it.

Swallowing his grand amount of pride, nearly literally, Otto relented. "Probably." He said with a face still burning with embarrassment.

Otto wasn't sure if he had an answer, or if he was once again scared of working out the answer himself. He'd have to think about times he'd tried and failed so often when he was homeschooled, and rewarded for his hard work with quietly disappointed stares from his mother; followed by a shrill and terrifying scolding from his father for wasting her time. He didn't want to dwell, or remember.

And he was still trying to be stubborn about letting too much on in front of Lawr; a feat that seemed fruitless for a young man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, begrudgingly.

"Failing ain't an option, so tryin' is out of the question." Was all he managed after some thought.

"That's a stretch." He mumbled in return, not giving Lawr's 'logic' and ramblings about life and risk too much thought. His reasoning was becoming complicated, and flew over his head. He wasn't even sure if this was about education anymore.

Once again he refrained from glaring at Lawr, even as he called him meek and scared. He bit the inside of his cheek and counted to three.

"Whatever. At least I ain't an old skeleton like you. You look less alive than I do."