"Disgusting! Without the gravy this entire meal is ruined!"

Ryder snorted, watching the chaos unfold as he unloaded a shit ton of different styrofoam containers. Pariston had sent Ging off on another rant after he'd pointed out that there was no gravy included.

"I paid for that shit, gods dammit!"

"Indeed, you did," Pariston nodded, encouraging this behavior.

"It's not fucking chicken fried chicken if there isn't any gravy on top!"

"A truer statement has never been said," the Demon agreed.

Ryder rolled his eyes. It was just gravy! That shit kills you anyways, if anything Ging was better off without it!

"And they have the best gravy in the galaxy, too!" the Terran-human hybrid pouted.

"Agreed," Pariston sighed. "Such culinary skill is not deserving of their incompetence."

"Yes! You get it!" Ging exclaimed, gesturing at Pariston with his fork.

Ryder sighed, and continued opening up and sorting the millions (only a mild exaggeration) of containers of cheap, fried crap.

"What are you moping about, huh, punk?!" Ging snapped, leaning aggressively across the kitchen island.

"Oh, nothing!" Ryder chirped. "I just, really enjoy listening to boomers bitch and complain about dumb shit."

Ging immediately took offense, face contorting comically as he slapped his hand over his chest. "Um! I am NOT a boomer! Do I look like a bag of bones to you?! Huh?! Paris! Do I look like a bag of bones?!"

"Quite the opposite, actually," the Demon chirped.

Ging grinned, slinging his arm across the blonde's shoulder to gang up on Ryder from across the jungle of half-cold food. "Hah! See?!"

Ryder's tail swished mischievously behind him, "He only says that cause he fucks you~"

Ging sputtered, "Of all the INSOLENT–"

All the males in the kitchen jumped out of their skin when the door to the balcony was violently flung open. Hands flew to weapons, and all three of them whipped around to see what the hell was going on–

Oh.

It was Gon and… Killua…

All tangled up together, their combined arousal powerful enough to burn Ryder's nostrils. They were gone in a flash, busting into one of the bedrooms and slamming the door behind them.

The other three just… blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Huh. It was about time something like this happened, actually.

Ryder turned around to meet Pariston's gaze, who just shrugged. Ging scoffed, marching over to the living room and flipping on the television. He turned the volume up.

He turned the volume up loud.

"Damned horny teenagers," Ging growled, grumpily stomping back to the kitchens, some random sitcom blaring on the television. Pariston snorted. Ryder didn't blame Ging, not one bit. The walls were pretty damn thin in this place…

Ging sat at the tiny kitchen table, Pariston at his side and Ryder sitting across from him. Gon and Killua had two plates set out for them, but Ging highly doubted that they'd be coming out any time soon.

The hybrid scoffed to himself, stuffing a bit of chicken into his mouth and chewing in the spiteful way that only Ging Freecss could manage. It really was nasty without the gravy, he didn't care what Ryder's stupid ass said!

Speaking of the purple skinned menace, though…

Ging peeked at Ryder from across the table. He hadn't really touched his food, was just absentmindedly pushing the stuff around his plate. Ging had half a mind to berate him for wasting the food that HE'D purchased to feed his skinny ass. However, Ging found himself sympathizing.

Absolutely disgusting, believe him. He knows.

Human decency was NOT a good color on Ging Freecss, and he'd stand by that until the day he died! Only problem was, it did get him down a little seeing how dejected the normally obnoxious kid was at the moment.

"Hey," Ging mumbled around a mouth full of sweet potato casserole. "I'm real sorry, kid."

Ryder startled, shaking himself out of his stupor. "Uh, what about again?"

"My idiot son making his move," Ging drawled, squirting more ketchup onto his plate.

Those green eyes blinked, but wavered all the same. "Eh, it's nothing."

Ging sighed.

He really hated being the responsible adult figure in the group, but SOMEBODY had to step in, right?

"It's not nothing," Ging argued, sounding a whole lot like Gon in that moment. "I can tell you're really down in the dumps. You love Killua just as much as Gon does, and I know it must hurt."

Ryder sighed, forcing a smile. "No, Gon loves him more than anything. I am in love with Killua… but Gon's the only one for him. I backed off of my own volition… he'll be happier. With Gon, I mean."

"You're a hell of a lot nicer about all this crap than I would have been in your situation," Ging grumbled to himself.

"It shows just how much you care about Killua," Pariston observed, cutting his gravy-less chicken fried chicken like it was some sort of elegant dish. "Your heart is in the right place, it's quite admirable."

"Exactly," Ging agreed, waving his fork around in the air. "But that doesn't make it any easier. Don't let yourself get all depressed or any stupid shit like that. We're here to talk and junk. You joined in on this mission, so you've been claimed. You're ours now, and we don't want to see you shutting down on the job, ya hear?"

Ryder's smile was weak, but it gained warmth. "Heh. Thanks, Freecss."

"Yeah, anytime and all that gooey crap, now pass the butter, huh?"

Ryder passed the dish across the table, mood clearly perking back up. Good, Ging had done his civic duty. Now he could go back to eating without having to look at his stupid pouting face and be reminded about what his son was doing not ten feet away from him–

"Are you fucking deaf?! I asked for butter, not fucking collard greens!" Ging roared in horror.

Ryder cracked up laughing, "You don't have a single green thing on your plate! Wouldn't want you suffering a blood clot on our mission, huh?"

"Asshole!"

Damned brat! Ging should have just let him continue to be depressed! Little shit head… But still. Seeing such a smiley guy lose his smile was pretty sad. Ging would never admit it, but he really was glad to have helped the kid out. If only a little bit.

The figure drew their hood lower over their eyes, amping up their Zetsu. They couldn't be too careful. They crouched behind the brick wall, eyes trained on the targets.

"Are we making our move?"

"Yup."

"Shit," the other breathed, eyes glazed over in fear.

"Don't piss your pants, now."

The other bared their teeth, "Shut up!"

The hooded figure chuckled, focusing back on their targets. There the two of them were. They'd been waiting for weeks now, waiting for them to separate. It had never worked before… the timing had always been so off.

But now that the Queen's forces had made their move on the western front… the Royal Guard were overworked.

It was just the slightest hint of exhaustion. Even an incredible being such as Neferpitou or Shaiapouf required sleep every now and then. The constant assault on the upper layers from Cheetu and Rammot had laid the trap, and now this sudden attack from the Queen's troops sealed the deal. It had taken weeks of waiting for a chance like this, but the Guards were finally overworked enough for something like this to actually be pulled off successfully.

The hooded figure slid their hand to the blade at their hip, "It's time."