breaking every habit // joining(some blood)

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Butch was already pretty damn confident by now that he was nothing like these people. That much was obvious, wasn't it? And not just for the fact that he was the one walking around collared, supposedly at the bottom of the food chain for them to kick around as they wanted. Pushing around a few kids and slinging a few insults was different than killing people and enjoying it. If Butch had to kill someone, maybe he could, but only if it seemed like he couldn't talk his way out of the situation, and he certainly wouldn't stand over the body like some kind of crazed sicko who found pleasure in a frenzy. It made him sick to see. He didn't care what the reasons were, because people could explain away anything -especially here- and while he wasn't the definition of responsible, death was a pretty damn serious case of whodunnit.

"Does it matter, Val?" The collie's mouth quivered a bit, but the rest of his expression remained cool as a cucumber. "He's from fucking Psychoville, come to Nowheresville 'cause it's a magnet for freaks."