::Winces as all Meryl fans will certainly be hunting her down with blood on their minds very, very shortly.:: Sorry for the longlong wait. I had a TERM PAPER. But I did figure out the eventual ending for this travesty, so expect more sooner. Hopefully.
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"Nicky..." she kind of nuzzles me. "Recite some poetry for me or something." Isn't it funny; she acts so weak and innocent and at the same time so commanding. It might be cute, if it weren't so disturbing.
"Uh... sure." I clear my throat. "Um... Roses are red; violets are blue. Sugar is sweet, and-" that's right. Lie through your teeth. "So are you." I really hope that didn't sound as miserable as it felt.
She giggles. "Oh, Nicky. You're so funny." She smacks me playfully. That might be cute, too, if it didn't friggin' hurt.
"I'm sorry... dear. I'm just not much of the poetry type..."
"You must know something..." Do I detect a hint of demand under the sugary tones? Of course I do. It's Meryl.
Um... "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on... Gunsmoke... as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses-" Judging by the look in her eye, the Lord's Prayer won't suffice. Blasphemous wench. "I'm sorry... I really just don't know any poetry."
"Oh." She sounds really downfallen. Meryl kind of slumps, pulling away from me a bit. Dammitdammitdammit... come back here, blasphemous wench. Honestly, I'll ignore the heresy, just... don't screw up my assignment.
"I'll try and learn some." I manage it well; the tone isn't too desperate. She seems to pick up a little.
"Or you could write your own," she suggests. Or rather, instructs. Yeah; definitely an instruction. This is wonderful; now, I have two sets of orders to follow. And if I ignore this one, it kind of throws off the other. Hallelujah. Death for failing my superiors is starting to sound pretty damn attractive at this point.
"Yeah... okay... I'll try," I promise. Doesn't sound desperate. Or despondent. I disentangle one arm briefly to go for a cigarette.
"You're not going to smoke, are you?" Her voice goes icy cold, again, and sounds doubtful. As though I would dare to go against the short girl who I don't even like for the sake of keeping her infatuated with me because some plants don't even know their brothers well enough to know that this is an absolutely useless situation.
"Of course not!" No, no. That's not what hysterical sad laughter sounds like at all. That was perfectly natural.
"Good!" Well, at the least the bitch has brightened up a bit. Peachy. "I'm glad to know you're finally willing to quit those disgusting things."
"..."
"Is something wrong, Nicky?"
"..."
She pokes me. When I don't respond, she does it again. And again. Christ, does the woman sharpen her fingertips each night?
"Is something the matter, Nicholas darling?"
"Not. At. All." Oh, Lord above; are you really certain suicide is a mortal sin? The blaspheming wench tempts me as ever to stray from my righteous path. Okay, so maybe smoking isn't part of my righteous path. But still, are all my sins really that bad? All of a sudden, she grabs me really tightly and possessively. I manage not to twitch, pull away, flinch, or beat her with the nearest blunt object screaming about uncleanliness.
Oh, look, Vash is passing by. And... Meryl just grabbed me. I may not be a so-called superior being, but I'm certainly able to put two and two together.
...I feel like more of a tool than usual.
Damnit, I bet he's laughing at me.
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