#sorry michael ur goin to war ig. rip bozo.

[emptypassicn-moved]

@friendscfmine        sent ;;

        “  (friendscfmine) Michael: “is that seriously your password?” (for christophe lol he's judging the resistance) ”

From ;; Unprompted Ask // Always accepting

        The snow upon the ground crunched under Mole's boots as he'd lead the goth to where 'La Resistance' had set itself up. Little conversation was made as he'd done so, Mole himself basically not speaking unless spoke to —aside from times he suddenly felt he ought to warn of something or disclose some information. However, not much of that had happened besides brief explanations of the Resistance... but part of that was even just Mole going 'Z'ey will explain sheet to you once we get z'ere'.

He didn't care to go into any in depth explanations. That wasn't his job. His job right now was just gathering up whatever kids managed to avoid Resistance recruitment up until this point — which included the goth he'd brought to the place now. The adults weren't on their side so he was tasked with getting basically any kid he could, including ones he figured were better to not involve. But who was he to speak judgement upon the plans of their dear leader-not-quite-leader of the La Resistance?

        But they soon enough reached the location.

He raised a hand and knocked on the door, being met with someone peering through and requesting a password. And he gave it. 'Bacon' was the fucking password of all things, fucking bacon. It was a password that was stupid to Mole, worthy of mockery. It was a password that was ironically American sounding.

        After having spoken the password, a glance was cast over his shoulder at the goth due to the comment made as the door was opened up. At first, all it got was some sort of almost amused sounding huff out of the French boy as what little was left of the cigarette he currently had was put out in the palm of his glove.

        “ Yez. ” The cigarette was dropped, proceeding to be crushed under the heel of one of his boots before he'd begin to head in. “ Z'at iz ze paz'ord. Blame ze American boy for it. ”

Which American boy? Whichever one came up with this shit. One of the various American children present Mole didn't care to learn the actual name of.