'Something like that.'
{You're really not going to tell me anything, are you?}
'No.'
{This partnership is off to a terrible start. I'm just saying. Usually, people tell their weapons what's happening. It's common courtesy.}
'Usually, weapons don't talk back.'
{Fair point. But I'm not a usual weapon, am I? I'm Oscar, the demon-killing spear of destiny, wielded by a suicidal human who thinks he can take down an entire demon fortress. We're going to be legends together, you and I. Assuming we don't die horribly in the next few days.}
Jack walked across the frozen ground, his boots crunching on ice that never melted, under a sky that never changed.
The fortress grew smaller behind him as distance accumulated, the massive structure gradually reduced to a dark silhouette against the crimson horizon.
{Seriously though, where are we going? I'm bored. I've been bored for decades. At least give me something to occupy my mind besides making jokes about your nonexistent love life.}
