[The look on his face is a spectacle to behold, indeed. Especially the way he cynically stares at her for most of her verse, until she gets to the end and his mouth contorts.]
Shut--!
[Focus. FOCUS.]
Shut your mouth, turn and go... south, take your poetry and your... the fuck rhymes with...?!
[God fucking DAMMIT. He takes the nearest solid object, which happens to be the little box he's been collecting "donations" in, and swings it at Éowyn's head, because clearly the best and most reasonable way out of this is to give her short-term amnesia.]
no subject
Shut--!
[Focus. FOCUS.]
Shut your mouth, turn and go... south, take your poetry and your... the fuck rhymes with...?!
[God fucking DAMMIT. He takes the nearest solid object, which happens to be the little box he's been collecting "donations" in, and swings it at Éowyn's head, because clearly the best and most reasonable way out of this is to give her short-term amnesia.]