[ no complaints here -- sha-ming drops to the ground immediately, very pathetically flopping onto his back. his throat is tightening, vision hazy, fingers twitching idly as he slips in and out of reality. ]
Probably should start coverin' my stomach, [ he grits out. ] Whoopsieeee.... am I gonna die, Mr. Priest...
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Probably should start coverin' my stomach, [ he grits out. ] Whoopsieeee.... am I gonna die, Mr. Priest...