The fact this post did so poorly is a insult
Diavolo: I don't know what all these naysayers are talking about. I'm cranked out on speed most of the time, but I am productivity personified.
Doppio: We sure accomplished a lot today, boss.
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Diavolo: I don’t need my meds anymore, Cioccolata! I’m free for the first fucking time! Why can’t you just be happy for me, man?
Cioccolata: If you’re happy then I’m happy–
Diavolo: I’m happy! I’m happy! Look at me, do I not look happy??? Do I not look happy? This is the face of a happy person.
Cioccolata: Hey Boss, look at me.
Diavolo: *turns around*
Cioccolata: Bitch.
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Doppio : Little did you know that Diavolo used to use ‘:3′ in emails?
Cioccolata: What the fuck
Diavolo : No.
Diavolo: No I didn’t, No I didn’t, No I didn’t, No I didn-
Doppio: You did.
Diavolo: I didn’t.
Doppio: You still do
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Cio: Do you know how long a human can survive after all of it's limbs have been cut off?
Doppio: N-no...
W̵̙͋Ö̸̗́U̶̢̾L̶̍ͅD̸͙̀ ̸̙̂Y̵̧͝Ò̵ͅU̷̗̒ ̸̪̈́L̸̪͘I̶̹͊K̵̖͝Ḛ̸́ ̵̤̾T̸̗̿Ó̸̘?̶̮̏
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Cioccolata: What we need to do is siphon off the blood through the arterial line and WHOOSH, sound of blood draining! More whoosh! Glug, glug, glug… Now before we proceed, I must state that if our star is bumped, we will have no useable test results. No test results; it's goodbye. Really, How hard could this be?
Secco: We could bolt him the table.
Cioccolata: Gruesome and low tech. Kiss me I love it~
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imagine wanting to fuck the mould man when tiziano is right there.
Anon is Squalo during all of the Unita Speciale meetings.
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Cioccolata: You know, I've been thinking about you, boss. Your lifestyle.
Diavolo: Oh, Have you? Really?
Cioccolata: Yes I have, people always try to label you. Y'know, maniac, psycho... In some ways you defy categorization. But then...
Diavolo: What?
Cioccolata: Think about it, where you live...
Diavolo: Yeah? I move around. Sorry that you actually have to travel for work, you lazy asshole.
Cioccolata: Right, But why do you do that?
Diavolo: It's harder to track! Easier to relocate somewhere reclusive, away from the theatrics of society.
Cioccolata: And what do you do if those areas get gentrified?
Diavolo: Then I just fucking relocate!
Cioccolata: Okay, what about the way you dress?
Diavolo: What about it? I don't give a SHIT how I look.
Cioccolata: No no no, if you don't give a shit, you wear clean average clothes that fit. See, yours are all a little bit out there, a little wacky.
Diavolo: Whatever catches my eye is what I get- Jesus, what is this?
Cioccolata: It's not an absence of taste, it's the opposite of taste.
Diavolo: What are you? A stylist?
Cioccolata: And then there's the clothes, the tattoos, the hair, the weird music, the funny toys, the niche drugs, the everything.
Diavolo: What the fuck are we talking about!?
Cioccolata: You.. are a hipster!
Diavolo: What?
Cioccolata: You're a hipster.
Diavolo: I hate hipsters.
Cioccolata: Classic hipster denial.
Diavolo: I abhor hipsters!
Cioccolata: Hipsters love saying they hate hipsters.
Diavolo: Well, I really fucking do!
Cioccolata: Hmm, Self-hatred, common hipster affliction.
Diavolo: Only because I like being away from the tight-knit communities and tourist traps!?
Cioccolata: You’re gentrifying. Soon, the skinny jeans will show up, then the skinny lattes, and then the tourists! And you'll be somewhere else starting the cycle all over again.
Maybe your not a classic garden variety hipster, but you're what the hipsters aspire to be.
You, boss, are the proto-hipster!
Diavolo: I don't know what you're talking about. I don't agree with what you're saying. You're talking bullshit and you're trying to wind me up. But I'm very, very angry, and I want this conversation to stop right away...
Cioccolata: Hipster.
Diavolo: Fuck you! Fuck you, Cio! say it again...
Cioccolata: I've made my point. I'm not suicidal.
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