any sluts out here want some tea? a fucking biscuit?
‘Tis I, Matthew Hopkins, infamous English witch-hunter, responsible for the deaths of between 230 and 400 people in the 17th century.
Excuse me, miss. Are you, by chance… a witch?
a witch yeah yeah, anyway shit this tea has NO sugar and i forgot sugarcubes is that cool with you
Matthew Hopkins recoils in fear and disgust, for this is truly…
Y-yes, that will be fine. As a Puritan, if I take tea at all, it is without sugar…
Seeming to have not alerted the witch, he chooses to take a subtle approach and coax the damning information out of her.
Now, pardon me for asking, but do you regularly hold council with imps and other such demons, perhaps
meeting
for tea and to blaspheme God?
look dude do you want a biscuit or not
Matthew Hopkins’ eyes darken in fear, and his face goes ghastly white. The Witchfinder General has found a witch for whom he is no match. She evades even his most cunning inquiries with ease, and the brazen air with which she admits her heresy shows she fears neither man nor God. He cannot win, and defeated, he relents.
