The house rattled as the enraged telepath threw the door open.
"FARFIE."
Pass the sitting room, across the dining room, in the TV room, a spiky silver-white head didn't respond. Pokemon played in front of him, and Farfarello wasn't moving.
Schuldig stomped forward, fists clenched and face burning. He rounded out in front of the psychopath, blocking the view of the television. "...Farfie."
The Irishman peered over Schuldig's waist, then scooted to the side. His amber eye lit up when the Meowth hot air balloon flew into the picture.
Schuldig grabbed the remote and jammed his thumb down on the power button. "Farfie."
"Do you think Pokemon is evil?" He replied, head tilting slightly in consideration. "The newspaper says it is." Farfarello picked up a copy of the New York Times and held it up for his teammate to inspect.
"Look at me, Farfie. Am I not uber-sexy? Look, take a good look, Farfarello." Schuldig made a wild gesture towards himself and his attire. It's true, the German was looking quite snazzy at the moment, in his pinching leather jeans and shimmering silver top. He was in his 'club' clothes, the flimsy outfits he wore whenever he took a night on the town to go (as Farfarello coined it) 'slutting.'
Schuldig even had eye shadow on.
Farfarello ran a finger across the headline, trying to draw Schuldig's attention back to the article. "They burned Pikachu dolls, because Pikachu is satanic."
"Four hours, Farfie. FOUR HOURS." Schuldig snapped. "That's one hour at the salon, another hour in the shower, a third hour for dressing, and a fourth for hair and make-up. Look at these fingers, Farfie. Do you see the nails, how they shine? How they're smooth and even? Do you know how much a manicure costs in this town, Farfarello? Do you?"
Farfarello paused in thought, "I think Jigglypuff is evil. But not Pikachu."
Schuldig screamed and wrapped his perfectly manicured hands around Farfarello's pale neck. While being choked from one end of the couch to another, Farfarello managed to get his hands back on the remote and turned on the television. He was just in time for the Pokemon Rap.
"I know you did it, you son of a bitch. Admit it! Stop ignoring me!"
Farfarello's sea watch went off, informing him that it was time to take his afternoon medication.
He tried to pry the German's fingers off his throat without hurting Schuldig. He couldn't hurt Schuldig. Not because he didn't want to hurt Schuldig, hurting Schuldig would have been very nice and probably fun, perhaps it would even piss off God. However... Crawford had forbid any hurting of Schuldig or Nagi because it was counter productive and their wounds could hamper mission performance. If he hurt Schuldig he might be punished, and Farfarello was never keen on Crawford's type of punishment.
Nagi stepped into the living room with a tray and glass of water. After school, before dinner, he was in charge of monitoring the psychopaths' medication, and his alert watch had gone off too.
"I AM A SEXY BITCH!!!"
Nagi did a 180 back into the kitchen. Farf could go on for another hour or two without his drugs, right?
"NAGI."
Curses, Schuldig had seen him.
The teenager stuck a wary head around the corner. "Yeah?"
"Do you know what he did?" Schuldig released his grip on Farfarello's throat, the Irishman collapsed onto the couch, blue and panting, but very happy.
"No, Schuldig..." Nagi pacified him, replying in a singsong voice, "What did he do?"
"Nagi... look at me, am I not uber-sexy?"
"No speeches. What did he do?"
"He slashed all the airs of my tire, the fucking nut. Now I can't go anywhere." The telepath's victorious crow crumbled into an upset whine. He fell onto the couch and succumb to self-pity.
Nagi raised an eyebrow, "Hasn't Crawford put you under house arrest anyway?"
"POINT! LOOKING FOR A POINT!!!" Schuldig waved his fists in the air.
"Crawford told me to slash your tires." Farfarello informed almost cheerfully. His day was going great. He had discovered yet another act of Christian stupidity and misassumption, he got to watch a Pokemon marathon, he got to destroy Schuldig's tires, he got to ruin Schuldig's day, he was strangled, and it looked like he wouldn't have to take any medication until after dinner.
"He what??"
Farfarello nodded, "Crawford said, Farfarello, Schuldig has been bad. He needs to be punished. Make sure he doesn't leave the house." He paused, catching his breath. Long speeches tired him. "I said, can I cut off his legs, because if he has no legs, he can't go anywhere. Crawford said, cutting off Schuldig's legs would be counter productive and..."
"Shut up."
Nagi took the opportunity to sneak back into his room.
Schuldig and Farfarello sat on the couch in silence for a moment.
So, Crawford wanted him to stay inside that bad? Bad enough to make Farfarello watch over him.
Now... The German pondered, should take that as a compliment and defy him even more? He could always take the...shudder... bus, but... He stole a glance towards his pale companion. Better not risk it.
"So, what are we watching?"
"Gotta catch them all," Farfarello sang, "Pokemon."
"FARFIE."
Pass the sitting room, across the dining room, in the TV room, a spiky silver-white head didn't respond. Pokemon played in front of him, and Farfarello wasn't moving.
Schuldig stomped forward, fists clenched and face burning. He rounded out in front of the psychopath, blocking the view of the television. "...Farfie."
The Irishman peered over Schuldig's waist, then scooted to the side. His amber eye lit up when the Meowth hot air balloon flew into the picture.
Schuldig grabbed the remote and jammed his thumb down on the power button. "Farfie."
"Do you think Pokemon is evil?" He replied, head tilting slightly in consideration. "The newspaper says it is." Farfarello picked up a copy of the New York Times and held it up for his teammate to inspect.
"Look at me, Farfie. Am I not uber-sexy? Look, take a good look, Farfarello." Schuldig made a wild gesture towards himself and his attire. It's true, the German was looking quite snazzy at the moment, in his pinching leather jeans and shimmering silver top. He was in his 'club' clothes, the flimsy outfits he wore whenever he took a night on the town to go (as Farfarello coined it) 'slutting.'
Schuldig even had eye shadow on.
Farfarello ran a finger across the headline, trying to draw Schuldig's attention back to the article. "They burned Pikachu dolls, because Pikachu is satanic."
"Four hours, Farfie. FOUR HOURS." Schuldig snapped. "That's one hour at the salon, another hour in the shower, a third hour for dressing, and a fourth for hair and make-up. Look at these fingers, Farfie. Do you see the nails, how they shine? How they're smooth and even? Do you know how much a manicure costs in this town, Farfarello? Do you?"
Farfarello paused in thought, "I think Jigglypuff is evil. But not Pikachu."
Schuldig screamed and wrapped his perfectly manicured hands around Farfarello's pale neck. While being choked from one end of the couch to another, Farfarello managed to get his hands back on the remote and turned on the television. He was just in time for the Pokemon Rap.
"I know you did it, you son of a bitch. Admit it! Stop ignoring me!"
Farfarello's sea watch went off, informing him that it was time to take his afternoon medication.
He tried to pry the German's fingers off his throat without hurting Schuldig. He couldn't hurt Schuldig. Not because he didn't want to hurt Schuldig, hurting Schuldig would have been very nice and probably fun, perhaps it would even piss off God. However... Crawford had forbid any hurting of Schuldig or Nagi because it was counter productive and their wounds could hamper mission performance. If he hurt Schuldig he might be punished, and Farfarello was never keen on Crawford's type of punishment.
Nagi stepped into the living room with a tray and glass of water. After school, before dinner, he was in charge of monitoring the psychopaths' medication, and his alert watch had gone off too.
"I AM A SEXY BITCH!!!"
Nagi did a 180 back into the kitchen. Farf could go on for another hour or two without his drugs, right?
"NAGI."
Curses, Schuldig had seen him.
The teenager stuck a wary head around the corner. "Yeah?"
"Do you know what he did?" Schuldig released his grip on Farfarello's throat, the Irishman collapsed onto the couch, blue and panting, but very happy.
"No, Schuldig..." Nagi pacified him, replying in a singsong voice, "What did he do?"
"Nagi... look at me, am I not uber-sexy?"
"No speeches. What did he do?"
"He slashed all the airs of my tire, the fucking nut. Now I can't go anywhere." The telepath's victorious crow crumbled into an upset whine. He fell onto the couch and succumb to self-pity.
Nagi raised an eyebrow, "Hasn't Crawford put you under house arrest anyway?"
"POINT! LOOKING FOR A POINT!!!" Schuldig waved his fists in the air.
"Crawford told me to slash your tires." Farfarello informed almost cheerfully. His day was going great. He had discovered yet another act of Christian stupidity and misassumption, he got to watch a Pokemon marathon, he got to destroy Schuldig's tires, he got to ruin Schuldig's day, he was strangled, and it looked like he wouldn't have to take any medication until after dinner.
"He what??"
Farfarello nodded, "Crawford said, Farfarello, Schuldig has been bad. He needs to be punished. Make sure he doesn't leave the house." He paused, catching his breath. Long speeches tired him. "I said, can I cut off his legs, because if he has no legs, he can't go anywhere. Crawford said, cutting off Schuldig's legs would be counter productive and..."
"Shut up."
Nagi took the opportunity to sneak back into his room.
Schuldig and Farfarello sat on the couch in silence for a moment.
So, Crawford wanted him to stay inside that bad? Bad enough to make Farfarello watch over him.
Now... The German pondered, should take that as a compliment and defy him even more? He could always take the...shudder... bus, but... He stole a glance towards his pale companion. Better not risk it.
"So, what are we watching?"
"Gotta catch them all," Farfarello sang, "Pokemon."