Russel's not feeling the greatest; hasn't been for a few days. So, he's been baking, but only when it's night. Not sure what brought in the massive wave of depression, other than the news he's been watching religiously when he has time to himself. Really, he thinks he's been spending a bit too much time alone. Been depending on 2D to watch Noodle, and the kid's been saying how sad she's started getting. It ain't cool how it seems to spread from him to the little girl. Great parent he turned out to be..

"Doing it again, are we?" Russ hears the weird grunt Murdoc often makes at the end of sentences.

He doesn't immediately answer, considering what to say. "Ya got a problem with a man wanting to bake?" The large man decides. Being the centre of attention isn't his strong point right now.

"Not really, no. What I have a problem with is all the waste! You and Stuart are the only ones who eat more than a few bites of the things. So why keep at it, then?" Murdoc sits in his appointed chair at the table. Makes a scene whenever someone else sits in it, unless it's Noodle, because then he'll just sulk.

"Noodle likes cookies and shit, don't she? Now you just being an ass." Russ retorts with a glare. His heart's not really in it, but he can see Murdoc ignoring that fact.

Murdoc laughs. A sarcastic laugh, which doesn't come out very often. "You don't ever let her eat more than one anyway, don't tell me this nonsense again! Hey, give me one of those pecan loop things." Murdoc points to a plate of braided pecan biscuit. It's got icing drizzled on top, looks rather nice, really.

"Get it yourself, I aint yo maid." Russ says with a real glare this time. "You was just saying no one eats my stuff anyway. Why you going for it now?" Still, he tosses one over. "Sticky on top."

"Fuck off, Russ." Murdoc says, examining the pastry with extreme detail. "Looks half-decent. Ever thought of opening a bakery? Like one of those musty old ones back in Stoke On Trent."

"Ain't never been there, crackhead. But they had them real nice ones back in Brooklyn. Man, if shit turned out different, maybe I coulda opened my own. Hobbs' Delectable Delights. Sound pretty good, nice ring to it and shit." Russ pauses for a moment, he's definitely thought about it in passing. Never picked a name for a would-be bakery though.

"Hm." Is all Murdoc replies with. He has his mouth full. "Tastes sweet."

"Of course it does, it's supposed to." Still, he lets himself consider this a victory. Murdoc never eats anything, so it's pretty amusing that he gets to witness it for once. Hell, he remembers maybe four times this year where he's seen Murdoc eat, and that was only on birthdays-- it's already November. Noodle turned eleven this year, and everyone else.. that didn't matter, they're old. Though, 2D had insisted on a truck-themed birthday party this year for himself, so it was like the boy had just turned six.

"Well, that was alright. Anyway, I forgot why I came up here." Murdoc has the look of an old man trying to remember something from his long-forgotten childhood. Only he's trying to remember something from thirty minutes ago.

Russ shrugs. "Beats me, man. I just here baking." He doesn't much feel like baking anymore now, and plus it's around 06:15 and he's thinking he might clean up and make breakfast for whoever comes down before 10:00. Probably Dee, he went to bed early last night.

"Oh. Yeah. Heater's making a weird noise. Gotta fix it. But that wasn't why I came here, no, the broiler room is down by my Winnie." He grunts again. Russ hates that noise.

It's quiet for a bit while he starts picking up his mess. Alright, that's better than Murdoc talking. The man's voice is like sandpaper on a chalkboard or however that one saying goes. Obnoxious. There's really not a huge mess, he's always sure to clean up as he makes more dishes, that way it's not a huge pile everywhere.

"Yeah, uh. That was it. Got any more fags? I'm fresh out; we can't have that now, can we." Murdoc asks, rubbing his forehead. There's more skin than he remembers towards his hairline, he hopes he's not balding. That wouldn't be fun. Bald men remind him of Texas and all those bar fights-- then again, American men tend to be rather unsightly.

Russ crosses his arms, finally turning to face the man. "If Noodle wasn't asleep I'd break your nose again, you stole the last two packs from my drawer!"

Murdoc doesn't deny it. Why bother? "So what, we can just get out to get more. Won't take more than an hour." He replies offhandedly, poking at a plastic cup sitting on the table next to him. He reckons it had milk in it, it's got white crumbing on the lip of it. "Besides, you don't even smoke them anymore. Why waste a good pack of Camels, Lards? Would be quite a shame, no?

"You damn lucky I don't got no energy to beat your ass, Muds, I swear to-"

He's cut off by a groggy voice. "Um. Russ, Murdoc. Don't mean to bother you, but can you help me look for my fags? They've, um. Gone missing again." Stuart's hair is disheveled; he's standing in the doorway. "I woke up for a bit of a smoke, but my box was empty. See?" The lanky man turns over the small paper box in his hand. A cigarette falls out. "...Oh. Thought it was empty. But, um. It's my last one, do we have more?"

The other two men aren't fazed by this, it happens more often than not. "You had one all along, paper brain!" Murdoc glares. "Hand it over, then,"

"But it's my last one!" 2D argues, squeezing the thing so Murdoc can't take it. But instead, now it's crushed and about unusable. The pieces fall on the floor, along with a few dry flakes of tobacco.

Now Murdoc is on his feet, then slapping 2D on the head. "You've ruined it!" He tells, entirely enraged.

"Ow!" Whimpers Stu; he crouches with his arms over his head as Murdoc repeats this. "Stop it!"

"Knock it off!" Russ booms, trudging over to the pair and slapping Murdoc across the face. "You both too loud! Get your own damn cigs, I ain't helping you now after that. And I'm going to bed, don't wanna deal with your shit, damn."

"But Russ," now both of them are whining at him.

"No nothing. Murdoc, you can drive just fine, I ain't fuckin with y'all. Probably woke up the baby too, with y'all's loud asses."

As if on cue, Noodle peeks from behind the outside corner of the door frame. "Um..Why yell?" She sounds groggy. "Fight? No good."

"Yeah, because this bloody idiot broke the last damn-" Russel punches Murdoc square in the bicep.

"Russel no hit!" Noodle yells, rushing over to the large man. "Why hit!"

"Baby, it's still early, we gonna go back to sleep and they can deal with they problem. I ain't gonna do it."

Noodle decides that this is fine. It's too dark out to be awake, anyway.

Hey! I'm still alive and been in the mood to write recently! So let's see where it goes! Lots has happened since my last chapter, (over a year ago!), so I'm hoping with my fresh outlook on life, I'll have lots of great story ideas. If you're returning to my stories, welcome back!! Thanks for sticking it out with me! If you're new, welcome! As always, story suggestions are open, and I'll see you soon!

-Hawk (Liz)