"I seductively took off my fanny pack," Soul said with a muffled groan into his hands.
"Pass me the pepperbroni, Soul. I'm not drunk enough for this." BlackStar popped open another bottle of beer as he reached for the slice that Soul had handed him. "Go on."
"I don't know what I was thinking, but I started to rub it on my butt–"
"You mean like those towel commercials?"
Soul nodded solemnly.
"No. You did not."
A wail of anguish pierced the air again as Soul continued to recount what had happened only an hour ago before he completely fled the scene. Maka and Soul had just finished their evening jog. They'd only started their routine a month earlier.
To loosen her muscles, she said. And to keep Soul off the TV and from being lazy, she said.
At first, he fervently agreed. What a perfect chance to spend time with Maka, even though he didn't enjoy working out with her because Kid bless, meister stamina is not to be messed with. Still, they would go about their day, eat dinner, rest their stomachs, gear up for their run, and then head out.
Except today…
"I was drunk off adrenaline, 'Star. So dizzy and woozy from the ten mile sprint, I just took off my fanny pack and started rubbing off on it in front of her." Soul banged his head on the coffee table. "I was just so happy to have the weight off my ass. And the sweat on my asscrack, man. The wedgie!"
BlackStar handed him his bottle, though it was half full. "Get drunk off beer now. Kid bless."
"Kid bless."
"I'm sitting right here."
BlackStar waved a hand in Kid's direction from across the couch. "Kid, take poor Soul's wheel."
The boys slept over at BlackStar's apartment that night. More horror to come. So much more.