𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚡 𝙽𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔

 ( there's an unpleasant digital crackle, the guttural sound of disapproval, and then—video.

a glitch. some idiot's emotions getting the better of him, and, most likely, he isn't aware that it's all being transmitted.

the occasional sway and the arrangement of luxurious delights in his line of sight indicate this as one of those expensive yachts.  )

What's the point in all this body modification crap? It's just a means t'do away with your weakness, to pretend you've got any real talent, and one I ain't flimsy enough for. Not to mention it's sketchy as all hell!

( a roughed-up hand comes into sight, clutching at a blue gem. )  

Tch. Each and every one of 'em thinkin' they're hot shit when rely on this crap. Guess the Ghost of Tosa's the only one here with any principles...

 ( the man continues to grumble as the video shows him headed for the assortment of cheese, crackers, and whatever else, the feeble way in which he wields a spreading knife just... odd. like he's never done it before.

then the perspective turns, awkwardly... towards the floor. ah. he must've realized it by now, with an audible click of the tongue. bye-bye, video transmission. )