A/N: Longest chapter so far. This time, it's from the Twins' perspective. Both of them. Two separate incidents. The first is from One and the second from Two. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out, though. Hope you like! ^^;

D/C: meh.. if you're that interested in finding out that I don't own anything but Pandora then go read the first chpt. My fingers hurt enough as if is.

Pandora the Brave

Chapter Three:

The girl Pandora is only spoiled because the Mero gives her whatever she pleases, so long as she's quiet. Personally, we find this rather irritating, as she won't quit screaming unless we are her babysitters. Aggravating, no? Of course it is! The brat fusses over our hair, and we like it just the way it is, thank you. We swear, next time she comes near us with a brush, we're phasing. This is something that drives her mad. She doesn't like two things about this. The first is that she can't do it, and the second is that she claims we look like corpses. We wonder where she learned that bit of vocabulary. She better not blame us again or we're going to pitch tantrums ourselves. Honestly, we got kicked and we got blamed for teaching her the word 'damn' although we rarely ever say that. Not that Persephone cares. We think the worst part about the girl is that her mother thinks she's an angel. Cute little Pandora can't do a thing wrong.

But everyone else can.

And does.

Right now, we're having tea with the tike, hoping she won't spill the marker liquid on us. She can't really expect us to drink it. We drink it, and we're appalled.

'How can we drink that shit?' we mentally ask our twin.

'It's quite nice, actually,' we answer.

Disgusting we think. Alas, we cannot control what we want to do, that's our job.

'Are we doing that so that she doesn't get into a temper?' we ask.

'If keeping that brat out of a temper means drinking a nice cup of tea, then we don't see why we shouldn't,' we declare.

We snicker. We obviously don't know that it's markers. We say, 'We do know that that 'tea' is made from a brown marker and a red one?' as we sip at the cup.

We sputter and choke. It's funny watching us attempt to wash our mouth out.

"Pandora," we say. "What sort of tea is this?"

"Oh," the Shirley Temple-esque brat smiles, "it's called Crayola."

We snigger at the look of horror on our face. Stifling laughter, we say, "What flavor is it?"

She flashes us a toothy grin. "Brewn."

"Really," says we. We give us a dirty look.

"I'll bet that," we say.

"stands for"

"brown and red"

"eh?" says we. We look ready to kill something.

We're glad we didn't drink that stuff. It's probably toxic. You never know.

After 'tea,' we ask us, "We liked that didn't we?"

"No. We didn't."

"Awwww, poor us. We're always the one she beats up on."

"Shaddup."

"Do we still have a nasty purple bruise from her majesty?"

"Shut up!"

"Is our pride hurt 'cos the little five-year-old can beat up on us?" We like to taunt us. We don't know why, but sometimes it's fun to push our buttons.

"We said, 'Shut. UP!'" We grit our teeth.

The Merovingian walks by us. We're about to strangle us.

He doesn't say anything. We realize that we're being foolish and we continue on to our quarters. We apologize.

We says, "Don't worry about it. We never used to do that. Ever since she came, we've been acting strange."

We are right. Stupid girl. We don't like her. She makes us think differently.

~@~

Once again, Persephone is out, and we are to look after the munchkin. Pandora gives us a hug, but she glares at us. She doesn't like us, probably because we think she's always annoying. True, she is hard to look after, but she does seem to care about us. All of us. Except the Merovingian. She hates him. We think she resents asking him for presents.

Little Pandora wants to play a game. We are all in the front hall, having just seen the Mero off.

"Two," she says, tugging at our coat. "Two, I wanna play hide-and-go-seek."

"No," we hear us say. "No way."

We tag us. 'If we play, and make her it, she'll spend hours finding us.'

We agree. "Come to think of it," we say.

"We will play," we finish.

Pandora gets excited. "Yay!" she cries. "Oh lovely! I'll be It first. You have to the count of …" She pauses.

"How about"

"Fifty."

She scrunches her eyes together. "No no… not long enough."

"Two hundred?"

"Three hundred?"

"I know!" she exclaims exultantly. "A thousand! That you have a chance to hide."

"Where"

"is base?"

She scrunches her little face together, thinking. Then she excitedly proclaims that we shall use the little wood table next to the door as our base. She skips over, and we begin to leave.

"You can't hide together," she calls out, as an afterthought.

After she's out of earshot, we say, "Can she even count to one thousand?"

We is laughing. "The best part is," we say, "is she messes up, she'll start herself over again!"

Now it's our turn to laugh. After we stop, we say, "There's a room on the top floor with a tv, stereo, satellite, and a minibar."

"Let's go."

We phase and fly through several floors, walls, and doors.

We stop. "Are we sure we know where this is?"

We don't answer, but continue in a different direction.

We're lost, we have to admit it. We can't even figure out what floor we're on anymore. "Uh.. One," we say.

We stop. We know we don't use names unless we're serious. "Oh, tell us we haven't gotten us lost. Again."

"We have."

We look ready to kill us.

We say quickly, "It's not like last time. Last time we were lost, we were driving. This isn't driving."

"That's it," we declare. "We are never letting us lead. Ever. Again."

"But—"

"Never. Do we hear us? Never again!" Then we hear the bell. We check our watch. We say, "We lost us a whole hour already!"

"We're sorry…" we say as we follow us through the floor to the first floor.

"Who would ring the bell, here?" we ask.

"Do we look like we know?"

"Oh," we say glaring as we step towards the door. "We don't know anything."

We open it before us can. We glare.

There's a man standing out side with a red bag.

"May we"

"help you?"

"Here's your food. That'll be two thousand euros," he says, holding out a pizza.

"Two thousand euros?" we sputter together.

We know it has to be Pandora. Sneaky brat figured we'd hide all morning.

"She found the phone book," we say.

"We realized," answers us.

We phase to go the main lounge while we deal with the delivery boy. We know that we like to deal with troublesome people. We only hope that we don't get carried away. We also hope that we get to the brat first. We're more likely to not get violent—er, too violent.

Little Pandora is lounging on the loveseat, flipping through the kid's stations on the satellite. We want to strangle her, but we only say, "Your pizza's here."

"Oh really?" she asks with a smile. "Could you bring it in here? And a glass of soda, too?"

"Do you think we're going to do that?"

She looks disappointed. "I figured that since it's already here, you wouldn't mind keeping it."

We come up behind us, carrying the world's most expensive delivery pizza. "We want to know two things," we say. "How did this get here in under an hour and what the hell kind of pizza is this?"

Pandora has turned back to her cartoons. "I ordered it three days ago," she says boredly. We are going to strangle her. "It's cheese, chicken, and bell peppers."

At least it's a pizza we like.

"White pizza," Pandora finishes with the most devilish look a five-year-old could give you.

We are really going to strangle her this time. What kind of freak orders a pizza and asks for no sauce?

~MnI~

I never made tea out of markers, but I suppose it works. You can color water with markers, I know that much. I also was never much of a terror to the babysitters, so I got some ideas from Calvin and things I do when I have to watch my sister.

As to white pizzas, I think they're good sometimes, so don't hate me for saying that no sauce is strange. I just had to think of something so that the Twins wouldn't want any.