You wake up for the second time that day, curled up under the thick, comfy-ass blankets that you've always wrapped around yourself everytime you fell into unconciousness. You roll out of bed, hitting the floor with a thud. Fuck, how many times have you done this now? Forcing yourself to get up, you wobble towards the bathroom. You still take pride in yourself to this day for having a bathroom of your very own, as to where a most of the others didn't. Yeah... you were pretty lame, but really it was a gift from the gods, especially when you had to live as a pirate. But enough talk about your fortunate living conditions (in your room, atleast), because no one actually cares about that and wants to watch you suffer like the peasant you are. At the moment you were just brushing your teeth, while waiting for the water in the shower to get warm.
You did consider yourself a multitasker but then at the same time you really didn't give two fucks about it. Anyway, you rinse out your mouth and strip yourself out of your dirty and ragged clothes, hopping in the shower quickly afterwards. You temporarily close your eyes at the sensation of the warm water running down your skin, which was utter bliss for you at the moment. Deciding that you couldn't stay in the shower all day you slowly go about cleaning at the filth that clinged onto you, not really wanting to face the work that was probably waiting to maul you the moment you stepped outside. That was when you suddenly hear knocking, despite the loud pattering of water. Who the hell was coming by for a visit now? You turn off the shower nozzle, taking a towel and sloppily wrapping it around your body.
"Fucking wait, you impatient piece of shit!" You yell, scurrying towards the thick board of wood that was virbrating with knocks. Grabbing the rusty knob, you open the door... Only to be met with the bottom of a fist, resulting with you falling backwards. Ow.
"Oh man... Sorry about that... I didn't know that you were-" The talking stops abruptly and you could feel eyes staring down at your pathetic self. Wait... Where was your...? OHSWEETBABYJEGUS WHERE THE HELL WAS YOUR TOWEL?! A panicked squeak escapes your mouth, hands moving quickly to cover the bits that you did not mean to present to the particular guy standing right in front of you. Your face must've looked as red as a tomato right now, since it felt as it were burning up like a boiling tea kettle. It was that Gamzee guy, which was probably not a good thing, considering your current situation.
"G-get out... Please..." You say weakly, voice straining.
"Yeah... Yeah sorry bro I'll... I'll be waiting for you outside..." And with that you hear something shut, presumably the door. After a moment of lying on the ground, you get up to go and try to find some clothes. You put on some grey boxers, along with a somewhat oversized dark grey sweater and some black shorts. Slipping on your sandals you walk out of your room, shutting the door behind you. As expected, you find Gamzee leaning against the wall outside, a lazy smile forming in his features at your presence.
"Well...what the fuck did you want?" You huff, suddenly interested with the floor.
"Uh... I was wondering if you had any... Motherfucking makeup? You see I lost mine in the ocean and shit... So... help a brother out?" Huh? Makeup? Was he some type of girl, trying to make herself look pretty for a date or something?
"... So, let me get this straight. You come knocking at my door only to punch me in the face, see me naked, and now you want fucking *makeup*?!" You were practically fuming now. You raise your fist, wanting to punch him in the face like what he did to you. You knew that it was an accident, but guess what? You didn't care. Of course you end up face-palming instead, because apparently you needed one of those. He opens his mouth. Before he could say anything you say something else.
"What type of make-up are you talking about here?" You ask unexpectedly, surprising him and as well as yourself.
"Uh... White and grey... clown-ish makeup? If that qualifies as a type?" You look at him, dumfounded. Why would he need... You know what? Fuck that question. There were about a million queries that were far more significant than this one. Sighing, you tell him to wait there while you went back into your place. You actually remember someone giving you some sort of grease paints a few years back, but you didn't remember who. All you knew is that they disappeared abruptly without telling anyone... And they were never seen again. You look through the cabinets in the bathroom, seeing nothing but dust and regret that you're even trying to look for this shit. When you came to the last one it had the exact thing that you were looking for: Clown makeup. Now... Who in the fuck gave you these again? You didn't even have a clue. Grabbing the containers of white and grey, you make your way back to the lanky-ass teen (well, at least he looked like a teen). He was waiting in the exact place you told him to stay at, leaning on the wall once again with his arms crossed. Fuck, you actually really admired his patience. It made things a lot easier for you, probably for him as well. Anyway, you shove the paints into his hands. Looking at you incredulously, he hesitantly accepted your 'gift'.
"What? Is there something wrong with that or what?" You ask, hoping that the clown was satisfied.
"No man, nothing's wrong at motherfucking all! It's just that... I didn't know that you all up and had this type of stuff lying around, you know?..."
"Well... You should be glad that I didn't fucking throw them away at the time I got those, or else you'd probably be just like a stupid fish without its water for all I know. By the way... You're welcome."
"Oh yeah thank you lots, Karbro! Honk, honk!"
"Uh huh."
