killin' my ego - cold front

[Grey]

Jealous. No, he wasn't jealous. They looked awful and although Bakugou was decorated with bone accessories, anything that reminded him of his previous human life made him deeply uncomfortable. The Reaver snarls at the Alaskan male, "Do that and I'll just use it for my next bonfire." He wasn't kidding either. The chimney from the roof of his hut was always releasing black smoke, curling as it left into the blue skies. He was always blacksmithing something, always forging. It was the reason why he smelt of burnt metal, charcoal at times because his house was one big hearth. Bakugou raises a brow at Victor. "Seriously? Ya had to wrestle a motherfuckin' seagull?" Those kinds of birds were child's play to the ragdoll. They may be nuisances, perhaps a little more clever than most animals, but they weren't much of a threat. It was the same thing he felt about crabs. Anyone who couldn't fight off a simple, little crab probably needed their life checked out. "You're useless."