Damn. Sorrel wouldn’t be surprised if the pink-haired reporter’s skull contained just water swishing around. It was a genuine question! He wanted to know! No need to be so rude— it soured Sorrel’s tastebuds too much. Fuck the mediocre food, he’d just take it home. 

Sorrel snapped the plastic container’s lid back onto his meal, leaving the plastic spoon in there. He didn’t exactly want it to end up in a landfill— it’d probably work as some Tupperware storage, or another little garden container. Up-cycling was important! As he stood up, he just… [i]had[/i] to poke holes in ol’ Strawberry Shortcake’s logic. 

“Well,” he started, “first of all. I see tons of anti-hero interviews n’ shit, they’re *more* hated by the DNCC, no..? ‘Cause they aren’t regulated, and the DNCC really wants [i]control[/i] n’ a good way to lock ‘em up, or at least recruit. And— second!” Sorrel paused to cough, and wiped the blood from his mouth with the edge of his sweater sleeve. “Second, you [i]said[/i] you got coverage on the fight between King Stag n’ the radiation dude, right..? How’re you not [i]dead[/i] yet? Maybe he can’t really hurt you, for some reason? Maybe that’s a start if you’re super duper interested, which it sounds like y’aren’t.” 

Sorrel didn’t exactly want to respond to Swiss-cheese, but, of course, he also just [i]had[/i] to bump into the fucking behemoth as he was trying to leave. Sorrel’s skin was..l feverishly, unnaturally warm at the moment— not really dangerous, per say, but he knew he got warmer when his body was acting up the way it did. He took a few steps back, looked at the giant, pockmarked man, and then the door. And he looked back, and saw a little beetle scurry down the man’s neck. What the fuck? 

“Two things for you too, I guess—“ Sorrel furrowed his brows as he more mumbled than tried to push a debate. “First, take a shower, for the love of everything that is good?? I just saw some bugs on you??? And [i]second,[/i] you’re just as big as the bug hero, so either stop being a walking concrete wall or start having a bit more self confidence..?” 

Another cough. He’s just gonna leave. He’s just going to leave. He wiped his now bloodied sleeve over his lips again before wiping at his forehead and eyes. He pushed himself through the door with his leftovers in his hands, and just… started walking away. Maybe he’ll go sit at a park and keep eating. Maybe he’ll actually go home.