[If you were young and stubborn you could outlive anyone who was waiting for that axe. Whenever Oscar's own swung down, he intended for it to be standing on top of a pile of bodies of his doubters. His entire existence was a spiteful display.]

Hm, contented. I can't say I understand contented at all. [Therefore, he would always be seeking out trouble. He drums his fingertips against the table. They'd been covered in clay, fancy polish, various bodily fluids, and eventually blood as he sought out more and more trouble.]

Well, I'll try to keep my trouble clear of your peace. [another sip]

Mostly.