Corvo

These events were fantastic.

He heard "fireworks," and Corvo hardly cared that anyone else was involved.  Summer back home meant warm weather, sunny beaches, and pretty girls- all things this game could simulate, but never really give to the man. He settled for what he could get, considering.

Corvo stoked his pipe, took a long drag, and stared into the starry sky. There was nothing better than a cool, clear summer night, and Aincrad offered phenomenal settings for that. His darkened breath returned to the air rhythmically as he leaned back against a lone tree and ignored the rest of the world.

Soon enough, the sky would be able, and none of them would be wasting their time talking anyway.

With another deep inhalation of smoke, the redhead closed his eyes and rested his hands behind his head. There was a time when he would have spent these precious nights with a loving, tightly knit family. He hadn't had that luxury in a very long time, now.

He was starting to forget what that felt like.

Corvo was starting to forget a lot of things. The manners of a southern gentleman disappeared behind the cold mask of a rogue. His desire to be around people bled away as he increasingly wanted nothing to do with this false reality. The people may have been real, but they weren't his people.

But these events were fantastic.

"Let's see," he flicked through his inventory screen and over to his status, only half watching as he made his way to the edge of town. Everything looked good, except for the sheer lack of decent equipment. Thankfully, these quests were designed to remedy that ailment, so he didn't complain too much. "These materials should be fairly common just outside the gate." 

The map blossomed into view in front of him, and the assassin glanced over it. "Doesn't look like there are any marked nodes for gathering," he mused, a veteran of many other online games. "I'll just have to look the old fashioned way."

He rubbed his hands together as he stepped out of the safe zone and into the proverbial fire, undaunted by the risks he took in doing so. Many other starting players took forever just to do it, if only out of fear that they might die. For Corvo, that was inevitable.

"Now, where do I start lookin'?"

He wasn't the type for this.

No, really, this totally clashed with his personality.

Corvo stood, pale as a ghost in the midst of a party filled with people, half-dressed and unarmed. The urge to stab people was barely suppressed, and if not for their disarmament clause in the invitation, he would already be swinging his dagger around violently. As it stood, the Assassin had no fangs, and he didn't know anyone.

Why did he do this, again?

Because there's always the chance someone has seen Arc, he remembered. There's still a chance in all of this that I'm not absolutely alone.

Social events were the one part of Aincrad that brought everyone together. They were his last, best chance to meet and mingle-

And here he was, drinking and brooding.

This could only go well.

"Zackariah" proved to be every bit the Merlin-esque old guy NPC everyone ran into at the beginning of their journey. At least, if their journey was in an RPG, and they actually started somewhere in the middle of their life. SAO was that kind of MMO, the sort of game where they gave you a chance to get your feet wet before trying to drown you.

"Just follow this quest chain and you won't die quite so fast."

Convenient. The other player who thumbed him in the direction of this quest was only a few levels higher, but he seemed to be kitted slightly better than average because of it. Corvo figured an opportunity to get an edge on the competition would tilt the odds of survival slightly in his favor, so he stood in front of the enigmatic old man with his arms folded. 

"Hello there!" the old man greeted with a kind smile. "I need some help. Could you run an errand for me? I will make it worth your while..."

The quest prompt appeared in front of him and the assassin tapped the accept icon lazily. "Sure," he said aloud, following the verbal cues. It offered a more immersive experience, and he had no one else to talk to anyway. "I'll help you out. What's the errand?"

"Could you bring me five materials?" Zackariah asked him. "Do that, and I'll fix you up a nice treat."

Corvo nodded, then headed off to work.

It charged toward him recklessly, the same basic attack pattern as always. Corvo counted on that, and when it stepped in just the right place, he dropped his level. When his hip bounced on the dirt, the boar bounded overhead and he thrust his foot out to send the beast fumbling over him. 

Corvo lashed out with the edge of his dagger toward its stomach, and another thin line flickered into existence on the digital beast. Unfortunately for the assassin, his movement came at a price. "Ack," he watched precious points trickle away from his health, an altogether unfair trade. The monsters could respawn. Corvo lacked the luxury.

"Well, alright," he snarled. "Next time, I'll try a different approach." 

He turned his body quickly as the beast whipped around, and he spun the dagger in his hand expertly. The training he had with small arms in the real world did factor into muscle memory translated by the NerveGear, even though it did little for his damage or statistics. Still, he was thankful it allowed him some small advantage in combat, if nothing else.

Boar: 5/10 HP

Corvo: 18/20 HP // 0/2 E

"Fine." His acceptance was flat, emphatic, and final. "I'm not the type to get hung up about this. I'll find out the truth when it's time for me to know it." The way he spoke, it was as though Corvo had come to grips in a one-sided conversation. The reality was something else entirely.

He would have no closure, not for a very long time. There would always be the lingering possibility that everyone he knew was dead, and he would learn that somber fact once he sought the others out on the other side. If Tobias was still alive, he had a profoundly good reason for disappearing the way he did. He knew Corvo would follow without question, and cutting him off ensured that he would never be able to follow.

Instead of dwelling on all of that, the man stretched out his back like a cat and spat ostentatiously in the dirt. His first step was wobbly, but he managed to walk a straight line. The system was dumbed down to the point where you could master it, given enough time.

They had all had all the time in the world.

Corvo hobbled forward to the square and leaned against a post for support. His next move would be to decide what course to take. There was no guild now, nor did he retain the delusion that there would ever be one. He had no intention of making friends, but he knew there would be no shortage of rivals.

People didn't like Corvo. Corvo didn't like people. It worked out.

"Only one way to go," he decided.

To the bloody top.

Threads

The Frost Bites -1 SP

Where'd you get that stick? - 2 SP

The first few lessons are free - 4 SP

7/12 total SP

Level 5

100/100HP

10/10 Energy

False as it may have been, the flavor of virtual mead had drowned out his memory of the genuine article. The familiar buzz rushed across his Heads Up Display and blurred his in character vision, only faintly enough that it simulated the effects of actual drink. Warmth in his cheeks reminded the youth he was alive, and the anger the smoldered in his chest reaffirmed it as truth. Though his flesh in this world did not scar, his mind had many fresh, long lasting wounds that would not heal as easily.

"Would you like another?" the girl asked with a kind smile. Corvo watched her with skeptical eyes, even though her intention ran on codes and loops. Her fate was tied to a string of characters, one that broke down to no more than 0s and 1s. 

To him, she was just another part of the system trying to tear him apart. 

"Yeah," he smirked. "Give me another."

It's not a real buzz. He reminded himself off a hard fact, and one the game simply could not replicate. The inebriation in Aincrad was limited to debuffs, staggering, and drowsiness. The anger is real.

He slammed back another mug and stared into the abyss his drink left behind. Corvo let out a lengthy sigh, pushed the container away, and his face twisted in disgust. "This is getting me nowhere," he snorted.

"Sir?" the girl leaned closer. "Sir, your tab-"

He stood abruptly and tossed the col on the table. "There's your money," he spat sourly. "Thanks for the piss."

She bowed as he left.

"Not a single message."

Corvo flicked through his old mail idly with a bland expression as he considered the endless possibilities. Thom was dead, and nothing could change that. Tobias, god only knows where that boy had gone. The Black Brotherhood had all but disbanded, and the Crow hated it. They had discussed nothing, and without a single word, the only people he knew disappeared without a trace.

"Not one single message, dammit!" The fiery redhead slammed his fist down on the table, so hard that it triggered the message "immortal object." His irate gaze burned into the character name Arc, followed by a string of gray and black. His name had otherwise disappeared from Corvo's friends list.

Had one of his best friends decided to end it all?

He retrieved the pipe and tobacco from his vest and lit the apparatus neatly, dark bags beneath his eyes yielding evidence of his lack of sleep. Even in the game, your consciousness required a break. Corvo found no comfort in sleep.

Especially not a false sleep.

"You dragged me into this world," he spat through gritted teeth. "And sweartogod, if I find you on the other side, you're gonna wish it'd been Aincrad that got you." He puffed a gray-black plume from his nostrils and stared hard out into the distance.

Passersby gave the player a wide berth. Corvo hailed them with the one-finger salute. "Excuse me, sir?" An NPC hovered close and smiled, and the badly mannered player glowered up at her. "You ordered a mug of mead?" she asked as she placed the drink in front of him.

He waited for a moment before he accepted it. "Aye," he muttered, "aye, I did."

How long will this be the only life I know? he asked himself. And how long before I accept that fact?

"Ah-" he started to speak, his general loud, comical, and inappropriate routine, and then she said it. Thom's ex-girlfriend. Leave it to both of those clowns to find love inside a virtual world. His expression was one of grim introspection for a moment before he glanced up and narrowed his eyes. "Well damn," he said quietly, "looks like Alkyboy found ya first. Wouldn't you know it. Guy was pretty good at finding treasure in games."

He glanced away, not sure of what else to say. Evan always seemed to find a moment for his friends, even in this world where he willingly scattered his sanity to the winds. Corvo, however, was a fickle fellow. He disliked these overlong, tender moments.

They really cramped his style.

"Listen," he said as he slid his fingers into the waistline of his pants. "I know what happened, and I've done my time crying about it. I'm sure you have, too."

His eyes slid back to the pink haired woman and he gave a lopsided grin. "I ain't in the business of wallowing in grief, and I don't particularly care about no one's rap sheet. So you killed a few c*nts. Bet they had it comin'. I'd've laid waste to a slew of them m'self."

He reached up unbidden, let his fingers touch her cheek gently, and tilted his head. "And well, call me cheeky, but I'll take you for a ride even if my dead buddy got it first."

Corvo let out an inane laugh and tilted his head back as he took a step away from her. "I think we can be friends, Pink!"

"Oh holy hell, I've gone and fallen in love." Corvo reached down and adjusted his pants as Lessa danced out and away from him to conjure a massive blade. The weapon was certainly less finesse oriented than his, and infinitely heavier, but this was a man with a true appreciation for all edged weaponry. "Put it in me, mon chéri," he cackled.

He sighed after a moment and turned his gaze to Beatbox, his expression unreadable. "You sure you wanna dance, pretty boy?" he asked with a lilting tone to his voice. "I can fit you in with the pretty blonde, and we can take turns stabbin' each other. Yer a little girlier than my usual type, but-"

Corvo made like he was spitting in his hand, then clapped and rubbed both his hands together. "-I won't discriminate. I hate everyone equally."

He redirected his attention to Lessa, grinned, and winked.

@Lessa @Beatbox

"Beer, wine, whiskey, whatever," Corvo took a swaying step toward @Lessa and spun on his heel, draping an arm across her shoulders and sagging so that his weight pulled her closer to him. "Whatever wets your whistle, ma'am." The scarlet scandal licked his lips and threw the girl a quick wink; if she pushed him off, there would be no hard feelings. It was just amusing to see what sort of reactions he could get from people.

The man's quick hesitation and willingness to back down from the conversation echoed with supreme modesty, and in some echelons of society, that was a marketable trait. In Sword Art Online, it only got you so far.

Willingness to do dirty kept Corvo's pockets full, among other appetites. The Assassin ran a hand down his leg and stopped over his blade. "D'ya like weapons?" he asked Lessa in a raspy voice. "I really like a good blade, myself. Feels amazing when you thrust one good and deep."

He gripped the hilt of his weapon and lifted it to where she could examine it, close to their now perilously close faces. "How about it?" he crooned. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

The others were all but forgotten for a moment as he smirked and eyed her, then slipped his weapon quietly away. "But really, a drink sounds good."

"Tobes sends his regards," Corvo greeted the group coldly as he flipped the tent flap aside and sauntered inward. He hadn't known most of the group his friend instructed him to meet, only that this was a favor to a Black Brother, and that there might be murder involved. Arc wanted no part of criminal activity. 

Corvo, on the other hand, wasn't in the business of caring. He instinctively lit up his pipe and took a drag off it, eyeing the group with a callous gaze. The broken boy that entered before him bore an unseen burden, and Corvo understood that all too well. This world was a heavy thing, and for some people, staying sane was too difficult a task.

Insanity was a form of freedom all its own.

His gaze shifted next to the hulking Domarus, a man who appeared as imposing, but directed that wrath away from him. That was fine. Corvo wasn't going to get in the way of his axe. 

Finally, he turned to...

"Pink?" he asked with a dry laugh. "Why didn't he say so? This one's on the house, sugartits." Corvo practically beamed.

"Hey... HEY! DON'T GO WALKIN' AWAY!" Corvo waved his arms comically, fighting for her attention as she denied it to him in the cruelest of fashions. This world already drove him to the fringes of his sanity, and the few moments he had where he could have some kind- any kind- of correspondence with another thinking, rationalizing, functioning human being gave him a reason not to start cutting people down like trees. "It's a lonely fuggin' world, pink," he mewled, more to himself now that she was too far to hear. "And yer only makin' me lonelier."

With a despondent sigh, the Assassin picked up his carefree façade once more and struck off after the woman. "It's Corvo," he called after her loudly. "COR- VO. That's an easy one, ain't it? Don't even gotta think hard."

He heard her say Arc, and his ears perked up. The redheaded lunatic sidled up beside her and opened his menu, flipped to his good friend's name, and opened a message template. "What, you wanna invite good ol' Arc, too? I'm down. Might be fun to do a tour de France- ever seen the Eiffel Tower?" he asked absently.

"Wait, no, he's got a girlfriend- I don't think he'd go for that." Corvo considered the notion briefly. "Sheeeeyit, if only Thom was here, I'd've talked him into it. Probably. Well. Maybe not."

Corvo shrugged. "Neither of them was all that great with girls."

He howled when she struck him again, not in pain, but excitement. The woman manhandled him in a way few girls ever had, in the game or outside. He absolutely loved it. He ate it up. "Yeah," he hissed when she started talking down to him, treating him like some kind of subhuman piece of garbage. "That's the stuff, lady. GIVE IT TO ME!"

She pulled her own dagger and pushed him down, and Corvo pitched the biggest damn tent he ever had. Might be she even felt it. (Somewhere outside Aincrad, the nurses watching his body got a real surprise.)

"You got a real good bedside manner," he told her in a raspy voice as she went on about how she could kill him, "but you ain't stabbed me yet."

She said it was all nothing, but then, if she truly didn't care she wouldn't have even bothered to try intimidating him. She would have killed herself a long time ago, lost in the futility of life inside SAO. No, Corvo saw through that.

There was a stark difference between being bored and being hopeless.  She was somewhere lost in between the two extremes. She probably wasn't even sure which direction was up anymore.

"Real busy," he sneered as she started off, "when you can tease a poor sod's ****, but not finish the job. Fox."

He shook his head and slid the dagger back into its sheath. "Just you wait," he called after her, "Imma make you scream my name one way or the other, pink!"

Ha. Haha. Hahahhaha!

Was she serious? The woman asked him to disrobe, so the obvious course of action was to comply. When her fevered response was flustered and she practically forced him to stop, Corvo could do nothing but let out a loud guffaw.

She turned away and said a few things, biting and intent on driving a wedge between them. This girl was great at pushing people away. Unfortunately for her, Corvo didn't give a damn about that. 

Hell no.

This was too much fun. "Looks to me like you do 'em just fine," he indicated her cursor, stained orange by system outlawed actions. Murder or otherwise, Corvo didn't particularly care. It never once bothered him that someone might do something in this game to get them in trouble. Hell, he half expected to leave Aincrad with a tarnished cursor of his own.

As she turned, he took a step forward and grabbed a healthy handful of her rear. "Ain't no one asked for you to be civil," he told her with a wink, he let out a wild laugh when the instinctive slap rounded and took him in the cheek.

He only grinned. "I been bored, see," he told her, "and I saw me an opportunity to change my luck. You wanna stab me, go ahead. Wanna take this back to an inn? Be my guest."

Corvo spun his dagger idly and pointed it toward her thoughtfully. "Your move, pink," he said, "either way, I got no reason to be scared. My death waiver was signed the minute I logged into this game. Might as well let a pretty lady do for me."

"You know what I hate?" Corvo asked the wind wasp as it flitted too close to him, one too many times. He gripped it by the wing and tugged, hard. As he drove his dagger down its abdomen, it split into a million fragments of data. "You, mostly," he spoke to the deceased mob, "but pretty much everything else, too."

As the Rogue fell to the grass in a graceless mess of black fabric, he glanced up and spied a pink haired woman in the distance. That wasn't something he saw everyday.

...and the cursor that marked her was even rarer. "Hot damn," he smirked. This was either the quickest way out of Aincrad, or a good time. Or both. Corvo wasn't arsed one way or the other.

He hurried toward her, and just as she got close enough for him to hear, he thought he heard her say something about someone. Coulda been anyone, though. Not important.

"Howdy," he greeted with a curt wave. Her last words had been relatively audible, and so he seized the opportunity like any good scumbag ought.

Carpe Diem.

"That an invitation, gorgeous?"

"Fighting things and drinkin'?" Corvo replied with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Mother F**K, I LOVE THIS GUY." He took a step forward and extended his hand in a merry shake. "I got all the time in the world," he replied. "Not leavin' anytime soon."

The man seemed taken aback by his greeting, and Corvo blinked. "Why," he answered, "whatever it is needs killin', friend," the Crow spun his weapon deftly in hand and cut idly into the virtual data that made up his flesh. He didn't seem to pay any mind to how it diminished his health. "What else would I kill? I ain't fussed, and ain't much else to do."

Aereth seemed the type of fellow he could get along fine with. No abrupt qualms with his demeanor- hell, the man even seemed content to play along. He liked that. "Tell ya what," he lifted his pinky finger and pointer in the heavy metal 'devil horns' fashion, and grinned wickedly, "let's slay us a few boars, then see what happens when we get back to town."

@Aereth

The kid was lucky, this time.

Corvo snapped his head around and managed to completely miss seeing the would-be assailant. That was probably for the best. The Assassin had a glowering expression that spelled violence for pretty much anyone who pissed him off. That wasn't hard to pull off.

When his eyes fell on Lessa, his mood lightened just a bit. The cute blonde from before. He had hit on her and she hadn't seemed totally averse to him. That at least made her fun to talk to, if not interesting enough to drag to an inn and pretend to have meaningful conversations with her.

No, Corvo liked to keep it real. He wasn't gonna pretend to be in love with anyone. That didn't mean he wouldn't have some fun.

"Well, well, Blondie," he greeted, his grip on the dagger going lax. It slipped calmly back into its sheath and his cloak fell over it. "Must be fate, runnin' into you like this. What say you 'n me disable our ethics protocols and paint the town white."

He smirked. "Or we could just grab a beer, and see what else the night has to offer?"

It was about that time when another guy came out of seemingly nowhere- well, not nowhere; but lets be honest, Corvo wasn't paying any attention to him before that moment- and spoke to @Lessa. Corvo shot the man a dirty look, but didn't interrupt their heartwarming reunion. 

"Encountered eh? In a tavern? Two guys at once?" He winked over toward @Morgenstern and then looked back to Lessa. "Hell, I'm not opposed. Let's spice things up a bit."

"Mmmmm..." Corvo listened as the other man went on about existentialism for a moment, and preparedness for the futility of existence. Grade A positivity, this guy. His eyes glazed over with palpable disinterest before the other man seemed to react in confusion to what the Assassin had said.

He measured the look of obvious confusion and replied with a short, maniacal laugh. "Well let's get this party STARTED!" 

Corvo swiped the air in front of him and went through all the motions to form a group. He found Wolfie and added him. "Name's Corvo," he introduced himself, "cha can call me Crow if'n you prefer." He half bowed, and a hand slipped toward his waist.

He spun the dagger from its resting place near his hip and ran a finger along the blade, rising to his full height. "Long as I get to run a few sods through, I'll help with any quest ya like, monsieur Wolf."

His grin was feral, almost canine. "What say we bleed some bastards dry?"

"Well, smack my ass and call me Cindy," Corvo hooted, "that was unexpected."

He watched as the two creatures were removed from the playing field and turned his gaze toward the newcomer, Aereth. "I coulda taken 'em," he sulked for a heartbeat as the man introduced himself. "Oh well, though. They're dead, I'm not- that was the plan from the get go, so it looks like you done me a favor. I guess I owe you one." Corvo blinked. "I don't like that. How can I make it up to you so we're even?"

Where had the man come from? That' what Corvo wanted to know. His eyes moved between different angles of approach, and none of them made sense. At least, they didn't make sense in the straightforward way. If the man had literally appeared from nowhere, he could chalk it up to some skill that he hadn't encountered yet. Was stealth a thing in Sword Art? If so, then he needed to take the time to invest in it. No good killer wants to attack head on, after all.

"Name's Corvo, by the way. Corvo the Crow. I kill things." Abrupt and crass as ever, the man split no hairs about who he was or what he did. He looked Aereth up and down, noting the light armor and his choice of weaponry. They had a similar skillset, at least. Aereth was slightly ahead in terms of level.

"So..." he began, not sure where to go from that point. Talking to people was literally the last thing on his to do list. It happened sometimes, obviously. "...know any hot chicks?"

It takes three seconds for something to go from "good" to "really, really bad."

In about half that time, Corvo managed to score the killing blow on a boar and find himself faced with two others. "You've got to be kidding me," he growled as data streamed away from his victim and scattered back to rejoin Aincrad in wide open white space. Two at once? I'm good, but I don't know if I'm that good just yet." His gaze moved from one to the other, then away as he considered a third option. "Gahd dammit," the assassin muttered, "I can't just run away."

He spun the blade deftly in hand and twisted his body to face both beasts in a low, balanced stance. "Dunno how I'mma pull this off," he said, "but I'M HAVIN' PORK FOR DINNER TONIGHT, LADIES!" With that, he rushed forward into the thick of two very grumpy boars, both of whom wanted nothing more than to fill him full of holes and send him packing right off Aincrad. In their bestial red eyes, he saw his own expression reflected.

"Let's do this," he hissed as his body moved completely on instinct. It would be several moments before he engaged them proper, more than enough time for someone to notice his predicament and wedge themselves into it, if they felt the unction. That said, he fully expected to go this alone, and he wasn't going to go begging for help. He'd made his bed, and he'd lie in it.

"Okay," he huffed as he dodged out of the way of one attack, "you're definitely a Sally," he pointed to the first boar with the tip of his blade, spinning his body out of the way of its vicious attempts to gut him. "And you?" he called as the second boar flailed its head in his direction. "You're a Bob. No one likes Bob. I'm gonna have fun kickin' your ass." Corvo launched himself airborne, a quick spin that took him over the creature's head and landed him at its flank.

"Sally," he nodded, "Bob. Good to meet you both. This here-" he stroked his dagger with one hand, "this is Victoria. She's good an' hot, and she wants to taste yer blood. Don't be shy."

Both boars snorted their indignation, though neither understood what the hell he was saying.

WHY WAS HE TALKING TO BOARS ANYWAY?

"Yeah, okay, I'm bored, and I'm stuck inside a video game. Sue me."

Dude. Don't talk to the narrator. Fourth wall breaks aren't cool.

"You're not cool."

@Aereth

Was this guy... talking in the third person? Corvo folded his arms and stroked his nonexistent chin hairs as the tone of the other player shifted from thoughtful discourse to drab exposition, and he cut in. "Hey, hey, Edgar Allan woe is me, this is a two way conversation, let's not take a detour through existential dread."

He pulled once more from the pipe and puffed it quickly without ever taking the device from his mouth. "And let's not pretend I know anything 'bout you, or you 'bout me. We all not what happens when you assume." His fingers wavered somewhere near the dagger at his belt, not threateningly but as a sort of unspoken promise.

"You wanna know somethin' 'bout someone, most folks'd agree that the best way's to ask 'em. Ain't never gonna figure out nothin' by tryin' to guess, or defining who they are in your mind. Expection..." he made a gesture with one hand curled into a fist and the other palm open. The two collided, and the open hand swallowed up the fist. "...reality."

He pulled the pipe into hand and closed one eye, appraising the other man with obvious criticism. "You know what I think? You're stuck on this whole calculatin' thing to the point where you ain't functioning proper in the emotional sense. This calls for a jump start."

He threw up a finger as an idea came to him. "...we gotta get you laid." Corvo shook his head, "but first, you gotta put a blade in something. Nothing gets the blood pumpin' like a good 'ol fashioned stabbin'. ...like, literally. Gettin' stabbed throws yer body into overdrive and the blood starts pumpin' harder."

Corvo stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. "Anyway, the important thing is, chicks dig stabbins."

God knows, Corvo wasn't a paragon among socialites. What drew him toward this crowd was less a desire to interact and more a vague, if morbid interest in what people trapped inside video games came together to talk about. As anticipated, they maintained hold of his attention span for the time it took to spin his pipe twice and lift it to his lips.

When his eyes slipped shut, the deviant youth took a seat amid the snow drifts and folded his arms, body language that spoke to the tune of "screw off."

Despite his frankly unkind demeanor, Corvo listened as different things happened all around him. Snowball fighting kids more prominently than anything else. "Feels like Michigan," he spat in monotonal disgust. "I hate Michigan."

The smoke cleared his head as he let it out all at once, a practiced release that almost felt like he was exhaling every care in the world. "Wonder how the fam's doing," he pondered absently. He thought of them fondly, and often. 

Of course, never around people he didn't know. There was Corvo, and there was the man behind the mask. The two were separate. They had to stay that way.

This world couldn't have the real him. It didn't deserve him. He wouldn't give it the satisfaction.

When a stray snowball struck him upside the head, Corvo's eyes snapped open. "Okay," he hissed. "Who's the wise ass what's about to get strung like a fiddle?"

"Still too much thinkin'," Corvo replied intently as he gnawed thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe. "Someone comes to hurt my friends, I hate 'em. That's easy. I fight 'em, I stop 'em." He took in another draw of the smoke and plucked the device from his lips, using the butt end to point toward the other man. "He makes it to where I can't stop him, then hell with it. He better not let me go free, 'cause I'll kill his ass."

Make no mistake- Corvo was a thinker, but he understood the merits of human emotion more than most people. His own experience was stifled well into his teen years, so the moment he was given freedom, he reveled in it. To Corvo, this man was the epitome of his former life, the one that he left behind with a smile. That didn't make him mad- it made him want to understand why someone would do that to themselves.

"But if you want a process analysis of happiness, might be you ought to do something that you enjoy. Unless yer one of them emo kids what don't enjoy nothin' and bleeds black, blah blah feckin' blah."

The Assassin replaced the pipe in its proper position and closed his eyes, a languid smile on his face. "'s why you smoke, right? Gives you a release, or an escape from the worst parts of this world. Ain't no point if it don't, is there?"

For Corvo, it didn't matter if the world burned. Not so much. What mattered was his own experience, and the few people who managed to touch him.

...sexually or otherwise.