"Yeah. I'm waiting for moot to kill a few of them." he shrugged.
Watching him fall apart, 4chan ran an eager tongue over his lips. He idly stored it in his mind to Google whether or not there was a fetish for this particular instance- though he was certain there had to be, after all, everything and anything was sexualized and pornografied somewhere on the internet. He gently handed him the steaming teacup, pushing it towards the New God, with a light touch, before pouring another for himself.
"You poor thing." the imageboard cooed, "You seem absolutely off your game." he smiled, breathing a cool bit of air across the surface of his teacup. It smelled sweetly of peaches, and he breathed the scent in as he inspected the drink a bit more. "I'll get you fixed up." he said, and although the notion seemed to be genuine- it was marked by the sudden nudge of 4chan's foot against Harvard's leg. "Or fucked up. But you look like you've had enough of that."