Author's Note: this one's for Emblem of Light. Didn't think Blu or Stahl would do this by choice, but then I thought: what if some other individual forced 'em to do it? And so here we are! Enjoy!
"Stuffing without the Turkey"
Bluefield
"Uhhhhhhhhh…"
I looked over at him, mashed potato hanging from my lip.
Stahl was leaning back in his chair, hand on his stomach and groaning. "…Why did we let Vespyr talk us into this…?"
"Talk you into this," I pointed out, feeling the bulge in what was definitely my intestinal organs. "She dragged me here by my hood."
"Ah… Oh, man…"
"Damn… Guess even a Zero has limits." With that, I placed the empty bowl of mashed potatoes precariously on the stack on the left-hand chair. "Freak, okay…that's twenty."
Vespyr snickered as she drew another tally tick on the board.
Bluefield - 20*
Stahl - 6
"All right, another one for the senior," the gunslinger called to the kitchen.
"Roger…" Trey called back.
"Oh, no…" I moaned. "Please stop…!"
Vespyr wagged her finger. "Ah-ahhh! Forty-three more minutes or you have to deal with the consequences!"
Oh, geez… She's a lot like Olivear and she doesn't even know it…
I groaned. I'd already gotten sick of mashed potatoes sixteen bowls ago. Stahl only looked constitutionally better than me by three degrees—and he's human. "Oh, gods, help…"
Ves laughed like a TV show villain as Trey matched out of the kitchen, looking regretful as he delivered another bowl of the mashed stuffing onto my table.
The newblood looked at me, and I practically heard him telepathically tell me, I am so sorry, before heading back.
Oh, dammit, I don't think I can take much more…
"Please, Miss Vespyr," Stahl moaned feebly. "Let us go…!"
"Ha-ha!" Ves declared triumphantly. "Not until you reach thirty bowls! Only then will you—"
"Will they what, 016-R 'Vespyr'?"
This is one of those times where I've never been more glad for Dreyza popping up the way she does. Thank goodness…
Leader was standing in the garrison doorway, hands on her hips, an oh-man-what-the-freak-have-you-been-doing-now? look on her face.
Upon seeing Dreyza, Stahl breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank gods…"
"O-Oh, Dreyza!" Vespyr stammered. "Uh, this is…er…it's—"
"An eating contest? With a native? Okay," Dreyza frowned as she approached her teammate, "I think you've got a lot of explaining to—what—Trey?!"
Slowly, Trey poked his head out. "…hi…"
Dreyza groaned. "Hahhhhhhh…" Then she grabbed Vespyr by the upper arm—"Agh! Hey!"—and dragged her along as the two entered the kitchen (Trey politely got the hell out of their way).
As the tongue-lashing commenced, I decided to take one more bite of the salted mashed potatoes, chewed, swallowed…and decided to throw my hands up. "Okay. Okay. Enough. That's enough. I need a drink. Okay."
Stahl looked at me, shocked. "Wh—Seriously?"
I blew out a line of air. "Yeah." Reaching down into the icebox-compartment, I pulled out some cans of Coca-Cola. Thunk! Thunk! KSHHH—!
Setting back the opening can top thingy**, I took a long draft from the aluminum can, and promptly went BUUUUURP! "Ahhhhh…"
Stahl chuckled. "Nice, but you might not have much on Vaike in that department."
"Thought never crossed my mind, sir." I offered him the second can. "One for whenever you feel you can stomach edible objects again."
"Thanks." The cavalier took the can and, after a bit of fiddling, went, "Ah, okay," and flipped the top open. KSHHH—!
"Okay, then…" I raised my can. "For surviving some bullcrap pulled by one of my teammates?"
"Ah, alright. Fair enough."
Chuckling despite the bulges in our stomachs, we clinked our cans.
* I know asking this doesn't help with keeping authority, considering the sitch, but: how the freak is Blu almost rail-thin? —Dreyza
** What is it called again? —Bluefield
Before wrapping up for the night, I'd like to give a moment to the people of Paris, who have recently been hit by terrorist attacks. I hope that they can recover from this tragedy, and take the steps towards making the city and country safer for everyone. If anyone from France happens to read this, here's a message from a worthless individual: Tu n'es pas seul.
See you next time. :)
—017Bluefield