[Waver hates his life. Nobody hates Waver's life as much as Waver does. But more than hating his own life, he really hates that he can't get any sleep right now, because his stupid Servant is snoring. And she reeks of alcohol, which makes him feel queasy. And he cannot escape it, because she is an evil woman who has pressed his face against her ample, ridiculous cleavage. He's squirming and trying to yell (it's muffled) and giving it his best but he is suffocating in this smelly, noisy trap.
What Waver hates most about his life is that it's really going to end like this...!]
[For a moment her grip loosens...but only to end up pulling him closer. What might be even worse is the drool starting to drip down her chin and onto his head.]
[NOT THE DROOL ANYTHING BUT THAT!!! Alas, it's too late. Waver can feel it on his scalp, and his struggles just push him deeper into her soft cruel hell. This is torture. She exists to torment him.
He flails with great gusto, because that's always the smart thing to do.]
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RIIIIIDDDDDDEEEEER!!
What Waver hates most about his life is that it's really going to end like this...!]
Mmfghss!
Waver screeching at Riders always
no subject
He flails with great gusto, because that's always the smart thing to do.]