Noctisardor Bypass [m] luke 10:19

it was pure spite which kept amadeo from doing exactly what the fuckwit goaded him to do; an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
what kind of man i am? i'm a better man than you, an eerie calm seems to settle over him, all the rage dissolving into a pleasant nothingness. i pity whoever your parents are. they must hate themselves for the way their little boy turned out.
and if they didn't, they certainly should.
amadeo advances until his breath is hot and rancid against anselm's nose. his instinct screams to maim, to sever, to twist — i'll bathe my wife in your blood while i fuck the next generation of cardinals into her —
restraint. grace. power.
you listen to me, bambino. here is what's going to happen. you are going to run, like the coward you are, and you are never to return. do i make myself crystal fucking clear?
his eyes say for him what he refuses to admit with his mouth; or else i will destroy everyone and everything you have ever cared about.