☠ 035

[molotov]

[Today, one might notice some... new residents in the lobby. Two new, very small residents. Two new, very small, and very redheaded residents. Although they may not look familiar to their friends, since they are missing rather distinctive eyewear.]

Are you really going to sit there and eat chips?

Yep.

Well, what are we going to do next?

I dunno. [He pops more chips into his mouth.] Enjoy this place before we get moved somewhere else again?

Ugh. [She rolls her eyes as the heels of her feet hit the couch.]

Think there is a fun room around here? I wonder if they have laser tag...

Really, Cross?

Well, one besides the game room. I feel like shooting. [He pretends to pull back the string of a bow and makes a “pshew!” sound at the nonexistent arrow flying.]

Laser tag does not have bows and arrows!

Whatever, Molotov!

I wonder if there is anyone else here to play with. You are being boring.

And you are being annoying, as always.

[There’s a glare and a moment of silence before she snatches his chips away and throws them on the floor.] Shut up.

Hey!! [He shoves her arm as a ghost comes and cleans up the mess.]

Do not hit me, Cross! [But her admonishment doesn’t stop her from immediately pushing him back, with both hands.]

[Yeah, he is going to jump off the couch to move away from her and take out his journal.] If anyone would like a bratty girl for a sister, they can take her!

I am a better sister than you are at being a brother! At least I am not a stinky stupid boy.

Boys are a lot more fun than girls.

More gross and dumb, you mean. Girls are pretty and smart.

Girls just look at themselves in the mirror and are all-- [in a high-pitched voice] “Oh, look at me! I am so cute! I only know how to dress up and pretend to be Mommy and I do not play in the dirt or play rough!”

Shut up, Cross! [Can’t play rough? Well, she’ll show him. By tackling him.]

No, Mol-- [Oh heck no. Cross is yelling in protest as he gets tackled, quickly letting out a growl of displeasure and trying to flip their positions.]

[And now there are two small, wrestling children in the middle of the lobby. Someone should probably put a stop to this -- little Molotov is prone to biting, much to Cross’s annoyance.]



[OOC: Open for action or journal! This is the start of Molotov and Cross's joint loss. Cross is blue, Molotov is red. Have fun!]

Comments

[samson]

No, maybe it's a -- loss. Or something.

[echivoc]

Or maybe you are just a weird guy.

[molotov]

Maybe he wants to kidnap us and chop us up into bits, Cross!

[Molotov: insane from birth.]

[samson]

Wha -- what the hell's wrong with you!

[echivoc]

[ Hear that dramatic gasp? That is Cross at the "h" word. ]

What is wrong with you!? You are not supposed to say that!

And my sister is just fine you big doofus!!

[molotov]

[Molotov chimes in, stumbling over her words a bit.]

That is -- that is a bad word! Only bad people say those, you... doofus! Big doofus!

[samson]

[god, he forgot what dealing with kids this young was like -- well, kids who aren't Mindy.]

Right, right ... I forgot I was talking to kids; you guys seem really ... grown up. [mutter mutter]

You know, you shouldn't say "doofus" either. That's not nice.

[echivoc]

So Mr. Brock, then, right?

[samson]

Just "Brock" is fine ...

[echivoc]

Are you sure? [ He is not sure if Brock is trying to trick him or not... ]

[samson]

Yeah. "Mister" sounds too formal, I'm just a regular guy.

[echivoc]

[ God, if this is a trap he will not regret shooting Nerf arrows into your eyes. ]

Then "Brock" it is.

And stop weirding out Molotov.

[molotov]

Yeah, stop!

[Molotov is very helpful.]

[samson]

[JEEEEEEEEEEEZ] Am I weirding you out, Molotov?

[molotov]

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.... maybe a little tiny bit. So stop!

[samson]

Alright.

[A pause.]

How's that?

[molotov]

[Thinking... thinking...] Better.

[samson]

Alright, good.

[molotov]

Mr. Brock, why do you know me?

[samson]

'cause you've been here almost as long as I have.

And don't call me "mister".

[molotov]

Nuh-uh, Cross and me just got here. And you are a grown-up, I am supposed to call you mister.

[samson]

Doesn't matter. You call me Brock, okay?

Anyway, maybe you're on a loss. 'cause I know you two, and I bet a lot of other people do, too.

[molotov]

[Molotov is apprehensive about this. He's a grown-up, she has to be respectful!] Okay... Brock.

That does not sound right to me.

[samson]

I don't know what to tell you. Maybe you were here before and you forgot about it, that happens too.

[molotov]

I was?