- Joined
- Dec 2, 2015
- Messages
- 22
- Reaction score
- 16
Rhys' face suddenly froze, as if all too suddenly disgusted by Tamara's words. Turning blue. As if the thought of sending children to their deaths was just as equally disturbing as butchering pigs. Well, when he wasn't eating them for food. Then it was morally just if to feed a hungry belly, but otherwise horridly unjust and inhumane of course. Obviously.
He heaved. Then looked down at his plate, opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, and let the half chewed plastic wrapping fall onto his sandwich. Then he queasily looked up at Tamara and shivered.
"Gah..."
The piece of plastic was disturbing to say the least, having come from around Tamara's tomato. And now he'd sullied his sandwich by spitting the tomato-juice ridden sliver onto the bread in a small pool of saliva. He put down his spork, paused, and licked his lips to try to swallow down any distaste and force past the disturbance.
"I don't think I can eat this anymore," he painfully admitted. Then he pitifully raised a hand to wave down a server bot. "Excuse me. Excuse me." Yet Tamara's words were still at the forefront of his mind, still choking his train of thought. "Café Jambon... Perhaps there are worse corporations than the Jedi. But sending children to their premature demise is perhaps the worst of all their pockmarks. The Sith at least believe in glorious death in battle. But the Jedi are supposed to have morals. They're supposed to know better. Yet there they go. Off y'go little one. Off y'go to face bloodthirsty monsters and gangbangers who eat your ilk for lunch... Perhaps I should try Padawan. Sounds tasty. Anything would do better than this Sarlacc's intestine."
Now he had switched. His opinions of the Jedi were entirely tied into a knot. First they didn't go far enough. Now they went too far. There were no limits to his twisting logic.
He heaved. Then looked down at his plate, opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, and let the half chewed plastic wrapping fall onto his sandwich. Then he queasily looked up at Tamara and shivered.
"Gah..."
The piece of plastic was disturbing to say the least, having come from around Tamara's tomato. And now he'd sullied his sandwich by spitting the tomato-juice ridden sliver onto the bread in a small pool of saliva. He put down his spork, paused, and licked his lips to try to swallow down any distaste and force past the disturbance.
"I don't think I can eat this anymore," he painfully admitted. Then he pitifully raised a hand to wave down a server bot. "Excuse me. Excuse me." Yet Tamara's words were still at the forefront of his mind, still choking his train of thought. "Café Jambon... Perhaps there are worse corporations than the Jedi. But sending children to their premature demise is perhaps the worst of all their pockmarks. The Sith at least believe in glorious death in battle. But the Jedi are supposed to have morals. They're supposed to know better. Yet there they go. Off y'go little one. Off y'go to face bloodthirsty monsters and gangbangers who eat your ilk for lunch... Perhaps I should try Padawan. Sounds tasty. Anything would do better than this Sarlacc's intestine."
Now he had switched. His opinions of the Jedi were entirely tied into a knot. First they didn't go far enough. Now they went too far. There were no limits to his twisting logic.