Who's Tougher: Ghirahim or Nash?

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Nash sits on his bed, his legs crossed and Ghirahim walks in with a basket of laundry. "Hey Nash! I got your laundry!" Ghirahim yells, then Nash quickly sits up. "Oh, thanks Ghirahim. I was going to get some dick to do it, but okay," Nash says, his last sentence turning into a mumble. "Hey Nash, you going to the party? You'll get lit on fire, jump from high places, and drink fresh blood and guts," Ghirahim says, then slowly licks his lips with his eyes closed. "Oh yes. I can already taste the pure flesh against my teeth," he creepily says. "Thanks for inviting me, but no. That's just disturbing and creepy," Nash replies, then Ghirahim puts his left hand on his hip, still holding the basket of laundry in his right hand. "Oh, I see. You're not tough enough for it. You're scared," Ghirahim states. "What? No. I'm not scared. I'm just disturbed," Nash replies, his hands on his hips. Ghirahim maniacally laughs. "Oh, it's okay! I don't mind be tougher than you," Ghirahim chuckles, then Nash reaches his right hand into his hand, pulling out his tooth. The blood runs down his mouth and Ghirahim screams with disgust. Nash quickly rose up, holding his tooth up in Ghirahim's face. "You see that? I'm the toughest a man can get. You're a piece of shit compared to me. Get the fuck out of my room," Nash creepily commands, then Ghirahim drops the laundry basket on the floor in front of him and he slowly backs away, blood still leaking out of Nash's mouth.

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