Chimera Fields a body moving through space

With about as much grace as a claw machine, Nine tore the furry hot pocket hare into two and tossed its upper body over to Yosemite. And with about as much fervor as a poor college student, he dove in. It was, in essence, the bachelor meal, complete with a dirt garnish.

He sat back, his stomach half-full, and belched. Sparing a baleful, are you happy now stare at the back of Yosemite's neck, he shifted his position from one foot to the other.

Bad idea.

Shi-IT, he crescendoed. In his pain, he had somehow managed to add another syllable onto the expletive-- a feat he might've found impressive if it wasn't for the pain in his bad leg. God was stabbing that bone with a fireplace poker, laughing, why are you stabbing yourself? Huh? Why're you stabbing yourself? Shitshitshitshit that hurts like a-- like a shit. Classic Nine. So very eloquent. Any and all resentfulness that he'd previously felt was now replaced by a bull in a china shop, trampling all over his poor sensory neurons.