Do what you want. [ Yuri muttered, squaring his stance and drawing up his shoulders, eyes fixed with purposeful and heated intensity upon the tower of bottles that was giving him so god damn much anguish. He was almost tempted to spit on his ball, just for the show of it- but refrained, rolling his shoulders instead and winding up his throw, taking a few practice swings without release; to make sure he had the trajectory right. He inhaled, exhaled- and then roared as he threw his next baseball, firing it at the stack of bottles as hard as he possibly could. It hit the second row of bottles; the very top bottle teetering a little, but not falling. The row he'd hit wobbled a little as well, but also didn't fall- and the bottom row? Didn't so much as budge. ]
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FUCK!!