He felt water run down his back from the damp brickwork he was sitting against, and as he worried distantly about corrosion he realised you can always fall a little further. A moment ago he thought he'd bottomed out, but now he was concerned about personal rust. Mother of fuck.
Is it colour?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘You don’t let me down.You are my ambassador to pr0n, man.
They both looked younger than him, as well as taller, better built and undoubtedly more schooled in the noble art of punching fuck out of people. Nonetheless, younger doesn't necessarily mean faster or fitter, and Parlabane was highly schooled in the arguably less noble art of running away.