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drhanniballecter:
runsonfear:
drhanniballecter:
“Yo.”
Hannibal swagged his way over to his office door, made agape by one unfortunate visitor.
He was just in the middle of cookin up another crime scene, so whoever it was at the door was in a shitload of trouble.
“You dun goofed, mate.” Hannibal growled dangerously.
“No you.” Will was hip to all the happenings up in here. He’d figured it out with his empathy or whatever.
“The jig is up, fam, I’m knowin on your game.”
“Listen, Sweaty” Hannibal smiled condescendingly. He wasn’t about to let some basic hoe step in up on his shit. He knew how to handle this tight sitch with some choice shade.
“You may think you’re playing the game, son,” hannibal started, with the heaviest amount of salt
“Butt sweaty pie, you’re actually tripping balls something fierce.” There was enough salt for a batch of Mcdonalds 99c menu fries.
Hannibal may be a salty hoe, but Will was ready for that shit.
“El-oh-el, you actually think I want to play your game? Finna end the mother fucker.” If they were in Sassyland living in Sassy City, the Capital of Sassyland, then Will would have been the mayor of Sassy City and he’d live in the sassiest building in Sassy City and, in his spare time, be the captain of the S.S. Sassy.
“Like, why are you so obsessed with me? Your design isn’t even that great.” He snapped his fingers in a z-formation. “Hashtag REKT.”