Ignoring my arms dealer and the twerp with the sword, laughing manically all the same as I vent my anger onto the one whom is responsible. Which is always Derrick, no matter the circumstances or excuses. Trying to put off the idea that I put this frilly pink apron on myself is just proof of his guilt, as I do a powerful underhand swing with my shotgun, landing a solid hit right against his junk! Hitting with enough force to lift him up into the air some, before twirling my shotty and sliding it back into my holster.<br/><br/><strong>"That should teach you to to think to put girly clothes on me you asshole! Now, clean up this mess and be ready to move out in ten minutes! GOT THAT!?"</strong>Giving him one more evil leer, followed by more evil stares at everyone else, lest they think themselves foolish enough to stop me. Walking off to my tent to change back into proper clothes, my standard short shorts and tank top and sneakers. My butt swaying from side to side before I fold the tent flap behind me.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(21 to hit, 7dmg to the beanbag.)</div></div>