And so they were there, sitting on Douchebag's room. Or should it be Douchette? Butters really didn't know, but in the state of mind he was at that moment, little did he cared.
"So" he started to say, leaving a pregnant pause as if asking for permission to continue", you are a…"
The question was left hanging there, because he still wanted all of this to be a joke, his mind was still trying to make sense of it. There WAS another reason, but he prefered not to think about it.
Douchebag (Douchette) was as silent as ever, but with a little difference: she was clearly nervous, her cheeks blushing hard, while her fingers played with her red hair. Her red and orange hair, Butters noted, something that could be either out of fashion, or a failed attempt to get her parents attention, which didn't seem to work at all.
She nodded, and that simple gesture sent the poor boy into an embarrassment hell.
"And I… to you…" again, the silence.
On the table, a little hamster played around them, disguise on as any other good chaos servant. And chaos was he delivering.
Butters couldn't say a word, his face as red as a tomato, mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to breathe out of water.
And it didn't help at all, that all that time, she was smiling like a doofus.
