040. All My Love

[samson]

[Ezio Auditore]
Hey, man. So ... last year when these magic babies disappeared, Molotov kind of wigged out. So just keep an eye out for that, I guess.

[Cross Marian]
[WOW HE STILL HATES YOU hear that terseness in his tone, bro?]

Hey. Molotov might flip out soon. And she likes you, so just keep an eye on her.

[Room 509]
[Welp, it's Saturday night, and Brock had sort of been dreading it. He was trying not to think about Andy going home tomorrow -- maybe she wouldn't, you know? Sometimes things here lasted longer than they were "supposed to."

But that still didn't keep him from deciding he was going to stay awake well past midnight to keep an eye on his fake impossible magic baby for as long as humanly possible.

He's on his way through the living room when he notices a door. Like, a freestanding door that wasn't there before.]

Uh. Hey, Molotov? What's this thing?

Comments

[molotov]

And do what with it?

[Molotov tentatively reaches toward the knob.]

[samson]

[Shrug!] I don't know. Put a backdoor in.

[molotov]

[Molotov opens the door, then gawks a little.]

I do not think so...

[samson]

[He peers over the top of her head, jaw dropping a little.] Uhhhhh.

[molotov]

What in the hell is this?

[samson]

It's ... a kid's room.

[................... nudges her a little.] Go in there.

[molotov]

What, no! You go.

[samson]

Fine. If you're scared.

[CONFIDENTLY STROLLS IN and nothing happens. He turns around, arms spread wide.] It's fine.

[molotov]

[Look, this is Paradisa, there is no such thing as too cautious.

Molotov glares at him and then follows, looking around.]

[samson]

[He looks around too ...]

This is like a total princess room.

[molotov]

Da. Why is it here?

[samson]

I don't know ...

[Sidles up to the dresser. Should he ... rifle through it? Is that weird? HESITATES ...]

[molotov]

[Molotov just watches. She's not touching shit until Brock absorbs any potential surprises.]

[samson]

[He holds his breath and opens a drawer. When it doesn't explode or shoot snakes at him or anything, he lets out the breath and starts carefully looking through the contents, making sure not to disturb anything.]

It's just little girl clothes ...

[molotov]

[Molotov just quietly picks up a stuffed bear and examines it. She doesn't want to voice her suspicions out loud, but it's so obvious...]

[samson]

[Brock stands over the open drawer for a moment, frowning at it, his hands loosely gripping the edges. He inhales deeply, not turning around.]

Babe ...

[molotov]

[Molotov steels herself before speaking, though her grip on the bear tightens until her knuckles are pure white.]

Da.

[samson]

[He sighs, closing the drawer but still not turning around.]

So ... you know what I'm gonna say.

[molotov]

I think so.

[samson]

We should probably get her so we can say good night.

[molotov]

[Molotov just bites her lip and looks away, eye closed.]

[samson]

[He hesitates, but finally turns away from the fucking dresser and goes over to Molotov, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin.]

It'll be okay, babydoll. You have to be happy for her.

[molotov]

[She presses her face into his chest and inhales shakily, just shaking her head from side to side.]

[samson]

[Brock strokes soothingly at her back, looking up at the ceiling.]

It's okay, honey. It's really okay.

[molotov]

[With a sharp breath, Molotov shifts to look at their feet, her forehead still against his chest. When she speaks, her voice is strained and quiet.]

But what if she doesn't come back?