Ixion scratched his neck — Veritas' neck — as he asked:
"So, what's he like in private nowadays? Does he talk about me a lot? Has he figured out how to not be dull and lifeless?"
Clenching his fist tightly and taking a few measured breaths, Wrath shook a little. Gritting his teeth, his jaw tight, the man looked over at his travel partner.
"How. Many. Questions. Are you going to ASK?"
It had been merely an hour since the two had begun their march. While both were capable of blitzing south, past the convoy, Ixion was insistent on taking the walk slow.
During that slow walk, he'd been hounding Wrath about Despair and Sloth. Among other useless, trivial questions.
Wrath had been annoyedly answering at first, but as time marched on…
Ixion cheered:
"I'm waiting!"
"Keep waiting!"
"Ah! Don't raise your voice at this dear partner of yours! The last thing you should do when walking into a crucible of death is be rude to the man behind you!"
Wrath stomped.
"I—"
But then seized up.
