BRING OUT THE MACHINE GUNS // open, visitor

[Kian.]

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Kian Ó Faoláin

"Way to prove her point, lemonhead," the Irishman calls out dryly from the jungle.  "You really are dumb." A well-agreed upon fact, he notes as he stands beside Keona and Séamus, unsheathing his claws in preperation.  "But no one 'ere is disappointed or surprised." Any reason to slice apart the exile was good enough for Kian.  He'd always hated the way the arrogant savannah looked down on everyone.

The pirate grins.  Between all of them, the prick stood no chance.  Much less with a massive supply of water for Kian to utilize.  An honorless fight he supposed, but Ceasar was an honorless exile regardless; he only deserved pain.

His eyes flicker sideways to Keona, patient and duitiful despite the obvious next command.

All your dead end fury is not enough