Is it better off not said?
The male in front of him had asked him to repeat himself, the look of shock written all over his face. See Mars, this is what happens when you don't listen to your mother, and you run off to find your ungrateful father. Bartholomew chimed in, though only the thoughts of the Cubbins child passing through the head of the Russo. Mars growled lightly at the sound of Bart, a silent warning to the other that he better stop before Mars did something that Bart didn't want him to do. The male went on to speak about how Rurik couldn't be his father. Mars was struck back a bit. Mismatched audits fell back on his head, and he felt pretty bad. He had been fooled? He was almost ready to cry if he had been fooled. Mars also was asked how he knew that Rurik was here. I followed the word on the wind. Many others had pointed me in the right direction as I traveled my way from California. the words were still low, his steel blue eyes going from the face of the other, and looking down at the ground sort of sadly. My mom told me that a Rurik Russo, a Russian, was my father. She said she had met him, and got with him, but he left before she could tell him that she was pregnant with me and my dead siblings.. the male spoke, again, voice was low, but now it had been stripped of confidence. The confidence left when the other had told him that Rurik couldn't be his father. That would mean that he was lied to his whole entire life. That would mean that his very life was a lie. Lyndi fucking Cubbins was to blame for this, and he could feel the anger swelling in his chest because of his stupid mother.
But...How do you know if he's not my father? he asked, his eyes rising back up to the other male's eyes, trying to find an answer. So you really think that Lyndi lied to you? I don't think so. Who is this kid anyways? Bartholomew chimed in again, talking to the gentleman on top of the horse. Awh, is poor little Marsy gunna cry? the other male teased Mars, really wanting to see if the male would break down in tears right then and there. Mars again, growled lightly to himself, really at himself since him and Bart were the same freaking person. Who are you again? the male asked, his head cocking to the right, no hint of anger evident in his low voice, but neither was there the confidence that he once had.
Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks
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