[AW] We might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain
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Word Count → 223 ::

There were many who felt Redtooth's name to be worthy of comment, which was to be understood, because as opposed to Andrew, Redtooth's given name, his nickname was friggen bad-ass. That's why he latched on to some passing childhood nickname for as long as he had. It sounded cool -- and cool was all Redtooth wanted to be. Alan, being likely foreign and hung up on the names literal translation, seemed to express confusion. Or, it was a joke... Redtooth really couldn't tell because of the accent. However, he smiled all the same.

"Not that I know of," he said, flashing his teeth in a childish grin. "I mean, I don't own a mirror, so..." He shrugged.

He took the lute and laid it on the ground next to him. Redtooth quirked a brow. Upon learning that ol' Alan here had been here a long time ago (mostly because of his mention of Harosheth), Redtooth had a rather tactless question to ask. "Say, Alan..." he started. "You know Harosheth." Redtooth's voice dropped into a hushed whisper as if someone could be listening in. "Has she always been such a stone cold mean lady? I mean, she hates me-- for like, no good reason." However, unknown to Redtooth, he was a terror in a well organized supply closet.

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