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 Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 9:28 pm
"Don't matter," said Crowley. "We'll eat anyway. The teabots always have something if lunch isn't ready." He reluctantly slid off the lowest branch and onto the ground. As he screwed his feet back into his shoes, he grinned back. "Yeah, totally brothers."
It seemed to go without saying that this would be a Secret. The sort of thing neither of them would ever tell even under pain of death. He grinned and started back towards the house. "We have cookies, and scones, and sandwiches, I guess. Whadd'you want?"
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 6:11 am
"Okay!" said Fish, stepping into his shoes. They wouldn't go all the way on so he just squished down the backs. He followed Crowley across the yard.
"Sounds yum," he said, and then hesitated. "What are scones?"
The Prosper household was not the most sophisticated eatery on the planet.
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Posted: Mon Jun 29, 2009 11:50 am
"Big cookies," said Crowley, who didn't question what he actually was eating and only knew what scones were because his mother wouldn't let him have any until he knew what the proper name was. The multidimensional nature of the lab monkeys meant that he would eat just about anything and not think it the littlest bit odd, too. "Only fluffier."
He heaved the door open for them until it stuck on the side of the path. "First aid first," he said, pointing to the stairway on the right side of the room. "I got stuff in my room."
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 5:24 am
"Like peroxide and stuff?" asked Fish, following Crowley up the stairs. "Dad puts that on scrapes."
He looked down at his hand that had just barely begun to bleed through the sock, and climbed the rest of the stairs in silence.
"Peroxide hurts, man... I've never been in your room before!"
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 5:57 am
At the thought of peroxide, Crowley mumbled something noncommittal. Maybe he could get away without it? But seriously, better safe than sorry, but then -- "Prolly it hurts," he acknowledged, "but I don't want my hand to fall off or anything." It'd kind of put a cramp in his style. Whoever heard of a traceur with only one hand? You'd end up, like, a pirate or something.
(For a moment, he found the thought of a parkour practicing pirate hilarious.)
"S'nothing special," said Crowley as he pushed open the door. And it wasn't; the room was depressingly normal, a desk shoved against the wall and covered with papers (mostly unfinished homework assignments), a messily made bed, and a discreet pile of clothes off in front of the closet. The walls were done up in green, lighter than the carpet but still as dark as the green outside. It was to the messy desk that Crowley went first, and he pulled out a first-aid kid that seemed to be the best organized thing in the room, even if it did look like he'd been using it a lot. "You first," he said, pulling out an opaque brown bottle.
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 6:09 am
"Okay," said Fish, with a certain resignation to his voice. He pulled the bloody sock off his hand and frowned at the cut. It was pretty big. He felt a tiny bit dizzy, but blinked a few times to clear his head. Passing out over a little blood was no good.
He took the bottle from Crowley, uncapped it, and poured peroxide on the cut. It hissed and foamed like some kind of wild creature.
"Ow ow ow ow ow," said Fish, mostly for effect, and handed the bottle to Crowley. "Okay, your turn."
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Posted: Sat Jul 25, 2009 10:38 pm
This time Crowley didn't flinch; the sting wasn't any worse than the cut, and there he'd felt faint, so he just dumped it on and then dabbed at it with a square of gauze; he wrapped it around his hand neatly and offered a square to Fish.
After a moment, he asked, "Want to get some food?" He jerked his thumb towards the door.
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Posted: Sun Jul 26, 2009 6:43 am
Fish took the gauze and bandaged his hand. He got up and followed Crowley out the door.
"Definitely," he said, acting as though he had not just been a baby over a little bit of peroxide. "Let's eat!"
((Hokay I think that's a wrap.))
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