"I wonder if the b*****d had any regrets..." Klimma mused quietly, nibbling on an edge of toast as she glanced over the headline of her newspaper. It was the sort of headline she was accustomed to seeing these days - the tagline of Gambino's demise was plastered all over the rags, and while it was growing wearisome, it was at least preferable to the idle gossip of other selfstyled media mavens.
As much as she'd despised the millionaire and his blatant recklessness, disregard, and harsh stance on the nonhumans he himself had created...she could understand the reverence of the man the rest of themselves had tried to fashion themselves after.
Still a b*****d, though.
"Hope not, that would be a scary thought, now wouldn't it, darlings?" Errant fingers flicked a few idle crumbs from the printed visage of the departed madman from far more prosperous times. Her companions, the vaguely feline creatures simply blinked a few times in a silent chorus of vague indifference.
"I wonder if we should postphone the trip..." She hmm'd. perhaps things were getting interesting again.
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Klim
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