Kirrian boiled with anger, clutching the broken stick close in his hand. He wants to stab this thing. He [i]wants to get rid of the anger.[/i] But decides against it. [i]"Killing isn't any good. The hell will it solve? My temporary frustrations? I've composed one too many songs to know how that ends up..."[/i] Kirrian picks it up and throws it into the corner of the hut. "Cut combing my hair. It doesn't belong to you, nor do I. Get the hell away from me." Kirrian turns his head, swatting away the combing hand. Standing up and dusting himself off he looks with a dead expression towards the captor. "For the record, I do play Guitar, yes. But if you think I'll entertain [i]you[/i] with it? Ha. Don't make me laugh."