Everything… My life was torn apart with the prohibition. The shreds of what remained were incinerated by the criminal underworld.
I’m guessing this isn’t real, on account that I was holding my bow a moment ago. Hell if I care. The weight of the mafia still weighs on my conscious, and assuming I haven’t died yet, that’s still very real. Here I’ve been given the chance to do something about it.
Maybe when this is over, I’ll take Vinyl to a bar. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
((Questions by soulsq3, infinite-scratch, askmiel, and JustAskTrenderman. Also, gif of page 4 available here))((Also, if you want to see other artwork by me, be sure to check out my art blog!))
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