nullhearted.

       ✕ ❝ Bounty, bounty, bounty, bounty. ❞ Ugh, what an annoying word.The more he said it, the more Fremont realized how strange it was to say - bounty. Saying it enough times reduced the word to less of a term and more of a strange jumble of sounds, something he couldn’t quite recognize, and began to question more with every passing second. ❝ Everyone around me is always talking about the stupid prices on their head - I get it, Jim, you have a high ass bounty, I don’t care !! ❞ He wasn’t actually mad - the opportunity to talk about bounties gave him the rare chance to talk about his own. Although he rarely mentioned, it certainly existed. 

       ✕ ❝ You’re a complete stranger an’ all, but I’d bet my right ass cheek that - if I started bragging on and on about my bounty - you’d get fucking annoyed too. ❞

@bopnty ✕ starter call. 

^{pads of his fingertips stroke the cool glass  filled with amber whiskey.   the bar is dingy but nothing out of what he hasn’t seen  ;    the only thing new here is a chatty fellow patron.     whether he is actually drinking or not is beyond his concerns    -    his constant talk is inebriating enough.    those wary would recognize who he is     (  and spike likes to think of himself as  A RENOWNED BOUNTY HUNTER  )     but so much don’t know the face that comes with the name.}    

^{this could be an interesting night,   he decides after he takes another sip of his drink.      “  you have a bounty on you ?   “     a pause  -   anyone could mistake his question for being genuinely surprised.   he’s just that good at faking.}

^{“    huh,   i wouldn’t count on it.   though i’d be careful where you  bring that up.  don’t know who’s listening.    “}