Rating : M(For the swearingness)
Summary : Bakura needs to finalize his costume. Joy.
A low growl sounded from Bakura's mouth as he glared at the piece of material in front of him.
"Die damn you!" He snarled, ripping it in two. He paused, blinked at the halves, and scowled.
"Think you're so smart, eh?" Within a second, the two (bastard) pieces of material were on a permanent vacation
He sat back and blew out air. 'Great. Now how the Fuck am I supposed to get ready in time?' He growled again, slamming his fist on the floor.
"Fucking Pharaoh. Always fucking things up for me." Having no-one better to blame, Bakura (of course) decided that it was all the Pharaoh's fault. In fact, he was going to go establish that fact right now.
...As soon as he found his laptop.
"MARIK!" He bellowed, not bothering to move off the floor.