067. In The Evening

[samson]

[In the early evening, Brock can be found at the archery range alternately shooting his crossbow at targets or using throwing knives. He is... pretty bad.

Also pretty bad is his constant swearing about how terrible he is. It's just awful. Embarrassing even.

But he's still trying. Just getting more and more pissed off as he goes on.]

[Brock's voice comes over the journal in the evening, tone flat.]

I need to know if anybody has experience with like... really bad depth perception. Don't ask. I just need advice.

Comments

action IN THE EVENING

[molotov]

[Molotov comes up behind her husband and gently closes his journal, wrapping her arms around his neck.]

Baby, I told you, I can help you with this.

UNINTELLIGIBLE LYRICS

[samson]

[No it's embarrassing go away!!!]

It's fine. What are you doing here?

[molotov]

Your throwing knives were gone, I put two and two together. And clearly it is not, since you are asking for advice.

[samson]

Well, maybe I was just... curious...

[molotov]

Curious about what? Who do you think could give you better advice about this than I could?

[samson]

I don't know, some... guys...?

[molotov]

"Some guys"? Really?

dictated;

[gottaknockhard]

[-- Hey. Brock isn't dead. Why didn't anyone tell him? (Because he went a little crazy for a while? Because he knows he was checking before that.) It actually takes him a minute to make this connection, but it'll come to him.]

Advice, huh?

[The best way to say 'welcome back' is to skip right over it...]

dictated;

[samson]

[Wow Spike, maybe pay attention to these things more!!!]

Yeah. I don't know if anybody's gonna be able to help though.

dictated;

[gottaknockhard]

[Hey, Brock is the one who never noticed that his good buddy has a fake eye. (...not the same.) He knows about this stuff.]

This isn't something about Molotov, is it?

dictated;

[samson]

Not... directly... [More like he just doesn't want her help because it's embarrassing.]

I mean, she's been missing an eye since we were kids. She probably doesn't need the advice.

dictated;

[gottaknockhard]

[...And it's clicking.]

Oh. [He doesn't blame him. He wouldn't ask Molotov even if he was married to her either. -- Spike may be tapping on the side of his journal, debating on what to say.] Well, there's probably someone else.

dictated;

[samson]

[He loves his wife, you know, she can just be... overbearing....]

Yeah, I don't know. Haven't seen that many pirates around lately.

[hellofist]

[It's almost painful to watch him be so bad, but it's only partly because he's just... he's so bad. Mostly it's because he's so upset that he's so bad and no matter how hard he tries or how colorfully he swears, he's just not really improving all that much.

She watches him from the shadows for a little bit longer, but then just heads over. Maybe she can help?]

Hi. Do you, uh... remember me?

[samson]

[It's almost like he doesn't even see her coming. He jumps when she speaks, his hand going to the knife at his belt, and then he makes a face that is like... half embarrassment and half annoyance. (Though the annoyance isn't strictly directed at her.)

Awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, he nods, glancing to the side.]

Yeah... Cass. Right?

[hellofist]

[She doesn't flinch. Even if he did manage to throw on target she could just catch the knife, but... well, he hasn't been.]

Yes. And you're Brook.

[Yay reading comprehension. She nods to the targets he's got set up and just breezes right on past that girl's name comment.]

Been practicing long?

[samson]

Uh... [He'll get to that in a minute.]

I've been here since about six. Couple hours. It's Brock, by the way.

[hellofist]

Oh. That... makes more sense.

[Not that Brook isn't a very nice name or anything, but Brock fits him much better.]

Are you just learning... how to throw knives?

[samson]

[GRIMACING...] No. I can't see out of my eye. Which is... new. So...

[rogueofheart]

I do not.

[And that concludes Nepeta's super helpful input. You're welcome, Brock.]

[samson]

[WOW THANKS NEPETA]

Really. Never lost an eye?

[rogueofheart]

No, but Vriska has! Her glasses looked like an eyepatch fur a while.

[That's somewhat more helpful, at least!]

[samson]

Oh. [No, yeah, that is actually super helpful.






But!!] How did she lose an eye?

[rogueofheart]

She didn't just lose her eye, she lost her arm at the same time. But you'll purrbably want to ask her about it yourself. She wouldn't like it if I talked about her behind her back.

[She's already said too much!]

[samson]

What the --

[No. Okay. She said she wouldn't tell, but oh my god. What the hell do these kids do back on their home planet...]

Never mind. Thanks.