He played a quick riff without FEAR at all. "An' if I wanna just hang out an' play, I use my guitar for that, too. Hell, Desiree's... well... as multipurpose as I am, which makes sense, since, she IS me--or the embodiment of my FEAR. An'..." He frowned, flicking a finger over the sharp blade that edged the body of the guitar, "looks like I need t'sharpen her again."
It made sense. He'd been going through a lot of emotional bullshit, of course his weapon would show his lack of mental sharpness, too.
Raja
No worries, things came up!