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"O, aye. He's dangerous as a sack of blackmark vipers," Mia nodded. "A right cunt and no mistake."
The boy raised his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape.
Mia met his stare, scowling. "What?"
"...My mother said that's a filthy word," Tric frowned. "The filthiest. She told me to never say it. Especially in front of dona."
"O, really." The girl took another pull on her cigarillo, eyes narrowed. "And why's that?"
"I don't know." Tric found himself mumbling. "It's just what she said."
Mia shook her head, crooked bangs swaying before her eyes.
"You know, I've never understood that. How being named for a woman's nethers is somehow more grievous than any other insult. Seems to me calling someone after a man's privates is worse. I mean, what do you picture when you hear a fellow being called a cock?"
Tric shrugged, befuddled at the strange turn in conversation.
"You imagine an oaf, don't you?" Mia continued. "Someone so full of wank there's no room for wits. A slow-minded bastard who struts about full of spunk and piss, completely ignorant of how he looks to others."
An exhalation of clove-sweet gray into the air between them.
"Cock is just another word for 'fool'. But you call someone a cunt, well..." The girl smiled. "You're implying a sense of malice there. An intent. Malevolent and self-aware. Don't think I name consul Scaeva a cunt to gift him insult. Cunts have brains, Don Tric. Cunts have teeth. Someone calls you a cunt, you take it as a compliment. As a sign that folk believe you're not to be lightly fucked with." A shrug. "I think they call that irony."
Fler smakbitar hittar ni hos Astrid Terese. Ha en trevlig söndag!