He had taken up pottery for funsies, he wasn’t the best at it, but he was learning. A tough assassin..learning pottery. Funny.

He was sat down in a calm room, as his fingers curved and shaped the warm clay. It was going decent when until he spotted you walking by, everytime he saw you, he’d ruin his progress. He looked down and suddenly there was a hole through the little mug he was making, he grunted, rolling his eyes with a shake of his faceplate.