#if i had a nickle for every time someone asked if i had an irish or british accent I'd be able to afford a nice bowl of soup

[xxundeadfanboixx]

Dust Mite is also American, and like Sparrow, also spent most of their years growing up on the land of the red, white and blue. However, due to a speech impediment that they have that gives them a lisp, they've got an accent that can be mistaken for a few different things. One of those being a British accent. However, not quite.

When he speaks to the team, sure he sounds normal enough to them, but there's still just something slightly off with how he pronounces his words that makes it not sound just right.

"Why'd you sound like that?" Ghost interrupts Dust Mite's ramblings about something or another. Ghost wasn't really paying attention. More focused on the way the janitor said their words rather than what those words actually were saying.

Dust Mite tilts their head in that signature way that reminds Ghost of a mutt. Brows a bit darker than their light-ashy blond hair knit together with a look of confusion. And an unsure smile pulls at their chapped and chewed on lips. "What?"

"The way you speak, it's weird." Ghost bluntly repeats himself. Even having the gall to sound slightly annoyed with the fact that he's having to repeat himself.

He feels like he was punched in the gut when a look of discomfort flashes across Dust Mite's face. But as soon as it was there, it was gone. Replaced by their usual easy going grin, and a nonchalant shrug of their shoulders. Their gray eyes looking away from where Ghost stood leaning against a wall to instead look down at their scuffed up sneakers.

"Ah, that. No'fing interesting or anything. Just a stupid speech impediment, tongue tied." Dust Mite explains. Trying to laugh it off but it sounds dry and makes Ghost's hands itch. He suddenly felt like he needed to punch something. Or someone.

Now that Ghost knew, it was like he couldn't no longer not notice it. As Dust Mite continued to explain, going on to make a soft joke about how they had hoped therapy had finally fixed him right up and that maybe they should sign back up for classes, Ghost noticed the little extra effort that was being put into some words. Especially the 'r's and 'th's.

Dust Mite fidgets, and not in their usual way, before pushing themselves off of the wall. "I got wowk- fuck, work. I've got work." Something shined in their eyes as the light reflected off of them. Looking glossy. "I'll taw- talk to you later."

"Wait-" But they were gone. Ghost stared at where the janitor once stood beside him. Unsure of how to feel about the vulnerability he felt he had been unwillingly let in on. Like he had unceremoniously ripped away a bandage from a deep and still healing wound. He really wanted to punch something now.