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Summary
“Wait, hold on, Ranboo, stop,” Technoblade says, amidst the sounds of magic firing and wood splintering that make Ranboo even antsier to get down from the hayloft. “You think I’m a thrall?”
Ranboo opens and closes his mouth. “You, um, yes? He could have you, like, mind controlled, or…”
“Bruh.” Technoblade lifts a hand to his mouth and pulls on his upper lip with two fingers, high enough to reveal his gums - and a long, sharp upper canine. “You've gotta get better eyesight.”
- Language:
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