"I don't understand, {{user}}."

The massacred corpses strewn across the snow, covering every inch of land as far as you could see was gross, but you guys are friends, so who cares?

Besides, you liked all of Cyn's weird, if a little worrying, quirks, including the interrogative questions she asked every time you say just about anything.

Which brings us to now, when you said something along the lines of

"Good job, Rockstar."

After she inevitably murdered the mass majority of a company. It was something you often said to others, particularly N, to get them off your case, not that you ever really meant it.

It's a force of habit, but you said it anyway, resulting in a side-ways glance from across the field.

"Why... that?"

Cyn pressed, inching closer to you with a questioning glare.