Disclaimer: I own nothing! Expect Marly and a laptop.
Warning: Violence and mentions of blood. Oh and, Tucker. And Church. And let's not forget Tex.
Episode 10: Don't Mess with The Reds
Once Girf and Simmons were over their amusement, Dex and Rick took back over. "Clearly we have an intruder. Rookie! You're exposed without your helmet. Your shields won't be able to properly engage. Stay here, stay out of sight, and don't get shot. Simmons! Come with me. We're going to secure the flag. Both of them," Dex said. Rick chuckled and gave a jaunty salute as Dex moved in.
"Aye Aye Sir!" he chirped.
"I swear, you get cheekier after every engagement," Dex muttered. Rick shrugged.
"All just part of my charm Grif, all just part of my charm," he chuckled. Doughnut shook his head at them even as he hid.
"Man, is everyone in Blood Gulch this crazy?" he wondered. Though, at the same time, he figured, he didn't really mind. It beat being surrounded by a bunch of serious, stoic, scarred, soldiers who talked about nothing but guns, ammo, explosions, and killing. There was a sound behind him and then pain exploded across the back of his head. It was such a shock, he couldn't even shout. As the world began to go dark, he though he saw cloaked boots walk past him and a mechanized voice say,
"Sorry kid, nothing personal." 'But... why?'
/*/
When they reached the flag room... there was only one. Dex cursed softly, his mics not picking it up. "Drat, whoever's attacking must have gotten here before us," Simmons growled. Dex growled and gripped his gun a little tighter.
"Come on! We're going to find that son of a gun and show him why you don't mess with the Reds!" he said, voice dark and rough. Simmons nodded, taking a pistol in one hand and pulling a knife with the other.
"Let us hunt," the maroon solider said, just as dark as his partner. Swiftly as possible, the two ghosted through the halls, seeking the grenade thrower, unknowing of the unconscious body laying on the roof above.
/*/
"Freeze!" Sarge called when he saw the dark form of an unfamiliar Spartan. Sure it looked a lot like Marley, but Marley didn't just waltz around the base. And she always announced herself before she appeared. This one didn't. The soldier stopped, and Lopez cut off the way he'd come. Then Grif came charging out of another corridor, looking a bit ruffled despite his armor. His gun was aimed unwaveringly at the intruder. Simmons appeared not much later, giving off the same annoyed feeling as Grif and anxiously flipping a knife in his off hand, his pistol aimed at the back of the intruder's head.
"So, you're the one who nearly killed Doughnut huh?" Grif snarled, aiming his rifle at the black Spartan's back.
"We don't like it when people hurt our teammates," Simmons growled, stalking a little closer, his blackened knife gripped firmly in his left hand. Sarge wasn't too sure how, but Simmons was actually managing to be rather intimidating. In fact, Sarge thought, Simmons rather reminded him of Agent Maroon at that moment. Especially the way he was handling that knife. When they had that one mission together, Maroon hadn't said more than three words at a time, unless he was yelling, and that was only as he tore his attackers apart with his knives. It had been a rather frightening sight, and Sarge was glad the man was on his side. Anyway, if it wasn't for the fact Maroon had a slightly raspier voice, Sarge would have thought Simmons had been replaced with the Agent. Shaking those thoughts aside, and deciding it was the CO's duty, Sarge stalked toward the captive.
"Drop yer weapon," he ordered. The intruder did so, then looked straight at Sarge.
"Hey buddy," the man growled, though it almost seemed like he was going for a conversational tone. Sarge paused, mildly curious.
"What?" he asked, covertly checking that he was outside striking distance.
"You'd better hope the first one knocks me out." Sarge smirked behind his helmet, took one swift step forward, and whipped the butt of his shotgun down on the intruder's head, knocking him out.
"Ya see? A good pistol whip to the face, or at least the head, solves so many problems," Grif said cheerily, pistol whipping the prisoner across the face. "That was for throwing a sticky grenade at Doughnut, you son of a gun," he said through gritted teeth. Another shiver went down Sarge's back at the tone. Grif almost sounded like Agent Orange. Man, what was going on here?
"I'll go get him, make sure he's still okay. Who knows what this guy might have done before entering the base. Hey Sarge! Know if we've got any spare reg. helmets? Doughnut's got blown up by this guy's opening shot," Simmons said, kicking the downed man in the ribs, right where the armor was weakest. Sarge winced, but nodded. Maybe Maroon had replaced Simmons. The attitude was about right. And Marley had proven that mimicking someone's voice was possible with the right equipment.
"I'll get it. Grif! Take the prisoner to the brig!" Sarge said, deciding that, even if it was Maroon impersonating his solider, there were far worse things that could be happening.
"With pleasure sir," Grif said darkly, grabbing the Spartan by the ankle and dragging him. Sarge winced slightly yet again, watching them go. Their prisoner was going to be covered in bruises and nursing the mother of all headaches when he woke up. Who knew his men would get so attached to the rookie in such a short time? 'And why does it seem like my fellow Red Agents are impersonatin' my men?' he pondered as he went off to storage to find that regulation red helmet for Doughnut, at least until his custom armor came in.
/*/
Rick found Doughnut sprawled out on the roof, knocked out and with a bloody lump on the back of his head, staining his fair blond hair a rusty red. Rick growled, shoulders tensing as anger coursed through him. "I really hope Grif is giving this guy hell," he snarled before brushing a few stray strands of hair out of Doughnut's eyes. The rookie's face twitched and Rick felt an odd feeling of exhilaration at the thought that he seemed to be waking up. "Doughnut?" he asked as softly as his helmet mic would let him, reaching out a hand toward the younger man. Doughnut groaned, then opened slightly glassy eyes.
"Simmons?" he asked, looking a little to the left. Rick couldn't help but chuckle. This kid... he was too adorable for his own good. Really. If there was a half sane woman in this canyon, she would be fawning all over this kid. And fussing over his head wound. Which looked to still be bleeding, albeit sluggishly. Right.
"Yeah, it's me. Do you remember what happened?" Rick asked, holding the boy down. He wasn't an expert on head wounds, but he figured it would be better for him to lay still for the time being. Doughnut winced.
"Not much. You two ran off, I hid, then something hard hit me in the back of the head and I passed out. Sorry," he said, looking to the side. Rick was glad to see that the glazed look was leaving his eyes.
"Hey! It's not your fault. Whoever this guy is, he's good. Spec Ops good. And he's got the armor to prove it. How's the head?" he said, motioning with his own, eyes drawn to the fresh red spreading over Doughnut's hair. Yeah, the kid really shouldn't be moving if it was just going to re-open the wound. 'Where's a medic when you need one?'
"Fine. A bit tender but, I'll live," the boy said, smiling slightly. Rick, however, didn't miss the slight wince when Doughnut moved his head a little too fast. Pursing his lips, Rick nodded curtly once.
"Right. Well, best get you cleaned up. Sarge is scrounging up a fresh helmet for you," he said. Doughnut smiled weakly and let the older soldier help him up. Once they'd made it inside, Rick took Doughnut to the showers. On the way there, Sarge caught sight of them and stopped them.
"Doughnut?" he asked. Still a little woozy and unfocused, Doughnut brought his head up in a wobbly fashion and once again looked a little to the left, though his eyes weren't so glazed anymore.
"Sir?" the boy asked, sounding rather young and uncertain. Sarge swallowed audibly.
"Grif said there'd been an attempt on your life son. I just didn't think..." he said, having some difficulties with his words.
"It's not as bad as it looks sir," Doughnut said, still not quite focused on Sarge, "and not as bad as it could have been. I'd take an unshielded blow to the head over a grenade to the face any day." Sarge made an odd half-strangled sound and waved them on, though he sent a private message to Rick through the helmet radio.
"Look after the kid, Simmons." Rick smiled gently and replied with the same privacy setting,
"Of course Sir." Sarge nodded stiffly and hurried down the corridor. Rick idly noted that his CO was headed in the general direction of the 'brig.' He smirked and hitched Doughnut a little higher on his shoulder. Grif was about to get a bit of 'help' with the prisioner.
/*/
When they reached the showers, Doughnut tried to tell Simmons he could wash himself, but the older man refused to hear it and instead sat him down and rinsed his wound with a soft cloth and a tub of warm water. Doughnut couldn't help but wince and hiss every now and then as the warm water came in contact with the cut on his head. "You're lucky," Simmons finally said, voice softer than Doughnut had ever heard it. He hummed softly in question. "The blow could have fractured your skull, if not shattered it, instead of just cutting open your scalp. Head wounds bleed a lot, even if they're not that deep, often making them look worse than they are," Simmons explained, rinsing the wound one more time.
"I grew up on a farm, Simmons. I've had my fair share of injuries, though few to the head. It's also been proven I have a rather thick skull," Doughnut replied drolly, a smirk tugging at his lips. Simmons chuckled, readying the antiseptic swab and adhesive bandages.
"Is that so?" he asked, swiping the lacerated area with the antiseptic. Doughnut hissed, but replied evenly,
"Yeah. Three brothers, all older than me. One of them, the second oldest, took a liking to baseball. He's gone pro now, but back when he was starting out, he wasn't always so good with his aim. He hit me a couple of times with a pop fly." He heard Simmons hum, then felt him placing bandages over the cut on his scalp. As his teammate tended to him with tender hands, Doughnut pondered the man's unknown past. So far, it seemed he was the only one who willingly shared his past. He hadn't shared a lot, true, but it was more than Grif, Simmons and Sarge had told him combined. It was then the newest member of Red Team decided he'd find out more about his team and proceeded to asked the man, "What about you? Got family back home?" He saw Simmons wince.
"No," he said, swiftly clearing up the first aid kit. "Listen..." Simmons said, slowing down slightly. Doughnut sat up, the perfect picture of attentiveness, "I don't know how it was back at basic for you but around here, one's past is often a rather touchy subject. Everyone has issues, something they're trying to get away from. So just... watch what you say, alright?" the man explained as he placed his kit back on the shelf. Doughnut frowned, sensing a deeper story, but decided not to pry further. Perhaps asking questions wasn't the best way to find out more about his team.
"Hum. Ya know... my head still kinda hurts. I think I'll go lay down," he said, rubbing his neck, wary of actually touching the aching wound. Simmons nodded.
"Use the couch and keep your head elevated. I want to keep an eye on you. Head injuries like this can be tricky, and I'm no doctor," he said, already relaxing. Doughnut smiled sadly at the man, mind immediately going back to the farm and his family. There was one person that Simmons forcefully reminded Doughnut of.
"You sound like Rick, my closest brother," he heard himself softly say before he turned himself around and walked toward the 'living room.' He didn't see Simmons freeze in shock, he only saw his brother's awkward smile, frozen forever behind cold plate glass and his mother's tears as they rolled down her cheeks. 'You're not wrong, Simmons. Everyone has something they'd rather not think about, and not everyone has someone waiting back home.'
/*/
"Hey guys. Doughnut's all cleaned up and resting on the couch. He should be fine, but I want us all to keep an eye on him in case anything pops up," Dex heard Simmons say as he entered what served for a brig.
"Good work Simmons. Still got the Blue's flag?" Sarge asked. Dex huffed, eyes narrowing just a little more at the unrepentant soldier in front of him.
"No. The intruder had already snagged it by the time me and Simmons caught up to 'em. Just another reason not to be too gentle," he groused. That was when the intruder got up. Dex immediately grinned a rather bloodthirsty mockery of a smile, fingers twitching eagerly against the grip and trigger of his pistol.
"Well, look who's up," Sarge said, aiming his gun at the black armored Spartan along with Dex, Simmons, and Lopez. The unfamiliar black armor sparked, causing Dex to chuckle darkly, and a woman's voice came through the speakers.
"Ah great. You broke my voice filter you..." Dex fired a shot over her right shoulder, clipping the metal plating and causing sparks to fly up at the visor. He had to give it to her, the unfamiliar woman didn't even flinch.
"Ah ah! Lady's shouldn't curse," Dex said, taking his left hand off his pistol to wag a mocking finger at her. He could have sworn he heard snickers behind him.
/*/
Meanwhile, the Blues were having a discussion of their own. "Let me get this straight," Tucker began, incredulous, "you're telling me, that the guy who showed up here, scared the living daylights out of us, shot at Caboose, and beat the tar out of the Reds... wasn't a guy at all? That he was a chick? And on top of all that, she was your ex-girlfriend?" he asked, listing out all the ludicrous ideas Church had feed them.
"In a nut shell? Yes. That's an excellent summary," Church's ghost nodded. Tucker shook his head. Unbelievable. No way did Church have any sort of relationship with a woman like that. For one thing, she was insane, capable, and seemed far more interested in shooting people than having a family and for another, Church was far too much of a wuss for her to have put up with long enough to go on a single date, much less call him her boyfriend.
"I should have known," Caboose said, nodding slightly. "She didn't like me. Girls. Never. Like me."
"Caboose, I don't think anybody likes you," Tucker said frankly.
"I like me," Caboose said sadly, looking down and to the left. Honestly, if he hadn't been wearing armor and holding a loaded gun, he probably would have looked a little pathetic. It almost made Tucker feel sorry for the man-child. Almost. He still remembered who it was who blew up the closest thing to a friend he'd had in years. And now he was the pathetic one. Wonderful.
"I don't think I've seen a girl that mean before," Tucker went on, trying to ignoring Caboose. "Are you sure she's a chick and not a guy? Or like, part guy, part shark?"
/*/
Flowdie couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah Marley, how do you know Tex isn't a part shark guy?" he asked. Marley groaned, though Flowdie could see a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Men! Anyway, weren't you still on board the MoI when Tex showed up? Didn't you hear her talking at some point?" she asked pointedly, quirking an eyebrow at him.
"Voice filters," Flowdie countered with a shrug.
"Look, Agent Texas is a woman. Sort of. It's complicated but trust me when I say that she's is a she and definitely not part shark," Marley declared.
"Eh, ya never know with all these weirdo scientists running a-muck in the galaxy," Flowdie said with a shrug.
"Wait... were there geneticists working on super soldiers to fight against the Covenant along with the engineers?" Marley asked, blinking curiously at her companion. Flowdie shrugged again.
"How would I know? I was a Freelancer, not an investigative journalist!" he retorted. Marley chuckled, smiling softly at the man.
"Nice come back," she remarked. He gave her a cheeky grin and turned back to his former team, feeling rather cheerful.
/*/
"I'm pretty sure I'd know if Tex was a guy, and I'd definitely know if she was part shark," Church said with confidence, seemingly not noticing how odd his comment actually sounded. Caboose was confused.
"Wait wait wait. If she's a girl, why is she named Tex?" he asked. 'Honestly, who would name their baby girl Tex?' he wondered.
"Uh... because she's from Texas," Church answered matter-of-factually. Caboose and Tucker shared looks, even with helmets in the way. "Trust me, it makes sense!" Church defended. "And you can't blame her for being so aggressive, it's not entirely her fault to begin with."
"Right. You should blame..."
/*/
"Blasphemy!" Marley shouted, blocking out the rest of Tucker's comment. Flowers quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. He knew she was a Christian and slights against the Almighty were taken very seriously.
"Sure, but you must admit, these guys are rather amusing. I'm glad you snapped me out of my hip..."
"You're still a hippie Flowdie. I doubt that will ever completely go away. Sorry, you're stuck with that one."
"Drat."
/*/
"Will you shut up with that?" Church asked, unknowingly getting Marley to cheer for him. "She got recruited into this weird, experimental program back in basic where they infused her armor with this really aggressive A.I. I'm not really sure how it works, but all I know is that it made her meaner and tougher than ever."
"A.I." Caboose said slowly. "What's the A stand for?"
"Artificial," Church answered.
"... What's the I...?"
"Intelligence."
"Oh~! What was the A again?" Caboose said. If Tucker didn't know better, he'd say the other soldier was doing this on purpose. Again.
"Let's move on," Church decided.
"So," Tucker said, liking Church's idea quite a bit at this point. "The military put this program in her head, and this program made her a killer, but underneath it all she's really just a sweet, down home girl?" he asked, still rather puzzled.
"Oh heck no! She's always been a mean piece of work. It's just that now she's a mean piece of work with cybernetic enhancements," Church retorted.
"Wow, sounds like you really won the lottery with that one. Good catch there buddy. She's a keeper," Tucker said, heavy on the sarcasm.
"So how you doing Caboose? You following any of this whatsoever?" Church asked the last member of Blue Team.
"I think so," the man said slowly. "That guy Tex is really a robot. And you're his boyfriend. So that makes you... A gay robot." Church sighed.
"Yeah. That's right. I'm a gay robot," he said.
/*/
"I think I see what you mean by 'he get's funny,'" Flowdie gasped out between guffaws.
"Took long enough," Marley said with a smirk. Honestly, these early days had been her favorite part of the visions. Less pain and suffering, more jokes.
"That bit, that whole bit there... really funny. Really, really, funny," Flowdie went on. Marley couldn't stop grinning as she watched Flowdie lose it laughing.
"Heh. Alpha's a gay robot," she said, fighting back hysterical laughter herself.
"It's funnier that he accepts it, and even repeats it."
"Stick with me, Flowdie. You ain't seen nothing yet."
"Oh goodie. I can hardly wait," Flowdie remarked dryly, having gotten himself back under control, though his lips were still twitching and his eyes were dancing with amusement. 'I used to wonder how that worked, but now that I see it... I never want him to lose this again. Wait what? Since when did I...? Oh no! He's getting to me!' Marley thought, panic slowly setting in. Flowdie, however, was oblivious. Mostly because while her thoughts were screaming, Marley's lips had said,
"Oh good. You've learned sarcasm. The Blood Gulch Madness has begun to take firm hold. How delightful."
"Said it once, I'll say it again. Madwoman," Flowdie remarked, though he sounded more fond than exasperated or dismayed. Marley decided to ignore the emotions behind his remark and simply take it at face value.
"We're all a little mad here," she said in her best Cheshire Cat voice and giving her best Cheshire Grin. She was rewarded with a blank look and a sigh. Eh, she'd take what she could get.
/*/
Sarge, in his great wisdom, had left Simmons and Grif to guard the intruder while he went to check on Doughnut and inform command of the happenings in Blood Gulch. "So..." Dex began, circling the perimeter of the room. The intruder didn't seem to be tracking his movement, or making much of a move at all really. It was starting to bug him. "Why start off with a bomb?" he asked, conversationally.
"Answer the question lady," Simmons growled when she stayed silent. Dex couldn't really fault him his anger. It hadn't even been more than a day or so, but already he was developing a bit of a soft spot for Doughnut. Having him be confirmed the youngest of the lot might have had something to do with that. Eh, whatever. Still, the woman stayed quiet, and it was obvious Simmons rather wanted that answer. Dex, however, tried a different tactic to get the woman to talk. He taunted her.
"Not so tough now that we're watching and have taken your weapon, are ya?" Dex tried. This time, he got a response.
"Look punk, I don't need a weapon to kill you." Dex smirked privately. Bingo. Insult her abilities and she'll talk. Sure it could backfire spectacularly, but hey. What was life without a few risks huh?
"I'm sure. What, gonna beat me to death with your handcuffs?" he taunted. She lurched toward him and he reflexively leaned back, dramatically yelling, "Not the face!" He heard Simmons chuckle from the door and his smirk grew. "What? Not gonna follow through?" he taunted, circling back around, though at a slightly larger distance. He really didn't want to get hit in the face, even if he had a helmet on. Some things just translated well from armor to body. "Pity. I would have welcomed the chance to beat you back unconscious," Dex sighed.
"I as well," Simmons rumbled, voice deep with vexation and other, darker, emotions. Dex fought down a shiver. Well well, looks like that intimidating moment when they caught this femme fetal hadn't been a fluke after all. Little Simmons the Geek had a scary side. "The soldier your grenade struck, the one you knocked out and left in a puddle of his own blood..." Simmons began, voice growing louder and more angry as he spoke.
"We've grown rather fond of him you see," Dex picked back up, once again circling his captive. As fascinating as Simmons' anger was, and how strange he found it, Dex would rather they kept a cool head in this 'interrogation.' "Kind of like a little brother or annoying cousin that you love to be annoyed with."
/*/
"And you hurt him," Rick grit out. He knew what Grif was doing. Marley'd done it to him as well, several times. Of course, those times he was fairly sure she told Flowdie to annoy him. "I can't speak for Mr. Pistol-Whip-to-the-Face here, but I really don't like it when someone hurts my family," Rick said, lowering his voice and pulling out one of the knives Marley had been teaching him to use. He hadn't been bad when she started, but now he was pretty good. Even Marley said so, and she was fairly hard to impress. For some reason, the captive still hadn't taken her eyes off Rick, or at least, she hadn't moved her head. He tilted his. "Any reason you haven't moved your head?"
"You're the bigger threat," she said. Rick quirked an eyebrow.
"Oh? And how do you figure that?" Grif asked, stopping behind her.
"He's never once moved his pistol," she replied, "and he seems rather competent with that knife." Grif chuckled. It wasn't exactly a pleasant sound, though it did put Rick in mind, once more, of Dex. However, at the moment, he didn't really care. If it had a chance of unnerving the captive, he'd ignore just about anything.
"Oh, Simmons is dangerous, no doubt about that," Grif said, sliding back around into her view, "a decent enough marksman and a trick knife champion this one." He clapped Simmons on the shoulder and dodged a reflexive slash. "However, he's also text book." Grif returned to his prowl, checking his ammo and clicking the safety off as he moved. "Me, on the other hand... well. I don't like showing off. Uncertainty is such an effective armor, wouldn't you say? Make your opponent unsure of you, make them underestimate you, and then, when the moment is right..." Grif said. It was the last thing Tex heard before her world went black once again, a sharp pain flaring in her neck. He had hit her with a ridge hand to the back of the neck, his favorite knock-out blow, right after the pistol whip.
"Did you have to make a show of it?" Rick asked, feeling a few shivers go down his back at Grif's little show. The orange soldier chuckled darkly, rubbing his hand.
"Yes. And it was so worth it," Grif answered. Agent Orange had enjoyed his brief tenure of freedom, as had Maroon, but they recognized the warning signs. The other was about to find out about their double lives. Revenge had been had, but Doughnut's pain had been repaid three fold. It was time to stop and let it go. Grif sighed and leaned back against the wall and Simmons followed suit soon after.
/*/
"Well don't worry, because I have a great plan for how we're gonna rescue Tex," Church was telling Tucker as Dex was attempting to intimidate Tex.
"A plan? Aw man, I hate plans! That means we're gonna have to do stuff. Can't we just have a strategy? Or a mission statement?" Tucker whined. Church, as always, paid him no mind.
"I just need you guys to run a distraction while I spring Tex."
"Distraction?" Caboose laughed. "That sounds a lot like decoy!" Tucker noted that Caboose didn't seem to see that as a bad thing. He wondered if the madness of Blood Gulch was getting to the guy. He seemed to be loosing brain cells the longer he was around.
"The way I see it, the reds have absolutely no idea how many Freelancers we have out here. So, all I need from you two, is to run around in the middle of the canyon, wearing black armor, while I sneak in the back of the base," Church outlined. Tucker had to admit, it wasn't that bad a plan. One problem.
"Sounds good, but Church... where are we going to get two suits of black armor?" Church looked toward the teleporter pointedly. Tucker followed, then looked back at the ghost. "Oh, fudgeberries," he whined. That thing hurt darnit!
/*/
"Church is rather mean," Flowdie remarked, apparently not noticing that he'd called the A.I. 'Church' instead of 'Alpha.'
"Didn't you get that off the whole thing with Project Freelancer?" Marley asked, puzzled. She had thought it rather obvious. I mean, pitting an already agnostic South against her brother by giving North an A.I. and not her? That was harsh man. Harsh.
"Yeah but... I don't know. He just seems..." Flowdie tried, failing to articulate what was bugging him about Church.
"Oh he's a jerk to pretty much everyone, but he cares. Ho boy does he care!" Marley said, deciding she didn't need to know exactly what Flowdie's thoughts were on Church. Church was Church and for now that was really all they needed to know.
"What?" Flowdie asked, snapping out of his musings. Marley began to feel a little uncomfortable, unsure how to explain what she meant without giving too much away. It was going to be hard. And besides, who was to say things on Chorus would turn out like they had in her visions, now that Project Red existed? Now that she had a plan for the A.I. fragments?
"See, he... well... there comes a point... Ah! Spoilers. Let's just say, he acts like a jerk, but he makes a good friend, alright?" she said, hoping he'd take her word for it.
"Huh. I'll have to take your word for it," Flowdie said, shrugging his shoulders. Ha! He took her word for it! Score!
"You know it's good," Marley said with a smirk, feeling rather proud of herself.
"Yeah. Doesn't make this any easier though," Flowdie remarked, looking back at the canyon.
"Think of the noobs, Flowdie. The noobs!" Marley remarked dramatically, waving her arms for emphasis.
"Stinking noobs," Flowdie growled, though the effect was rather ruined by his pout. Marley chuckled and ruffled his hair, making him squawk lightly in protest.
"Alright alright, enough. Hey, fancy some cocoa?" she asked with a smile. Flowdie answered it with one of his own.
"Yeah," he said with a sigh, flopping backwards onto her rather beat up sofa, "I could go for some cocoa."
"Two mugs of hot chocolate, coming right up!" Marley said with exaggerated cheer, causing Flowdie to chuckle lightly.
/?/
A/N: Whoo! Yeah. That ah... Dex and Rick ran away with me. And uh... Doughnut demanded I put something about his home life in there. Franklin now has three big brothers! And possible two more! And maybe another Uncle! Or maybe even a dad. Not too sure. Any way, yeah.
A/N 2: A~~nd I just made Doughnut's home life sadder. Man. What is it with RvB and tragic back stories huh? Geeze. Anyway, edited for coherence, spelling, and continuity. Whoo! 8/16/16