Human

"Sixty years of good solid training is enough to turn anyone into a tidy little scrapper."

She's a weapon, now. There's absolutely no denying it. She's a bloody little weapon, trained and honed to the point of mechanic precision. She can kill, and she can hurt. She hasn't lost all feeling, though.

One tear, undeniably human.

A/N: Almost like a Cleaver, no?

Written December the Fifth.

Sunshine and laughter and dead butterflies~

Sweethearted.