Disclaimer: Psychonauts ≠ mine. Psychonauts belongs to Doublefine.
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Notes: Fred, pre-crazy, while working at Thorney Towers. I think Fred may be my favorite asylum inmate as far as personality goes.
Futile
"Gee, uh... you're kinda good at this, aren't you, Crispin? Heh." Fred offered with a weak laugh. 'Kinda good' didn't really cover it. The freakish creature across from him had won six games of Waterloo and frankly, it was beginning to work on Fred's nerves, but he wasn't about to admit that. He was an Orderly, for Christ's sake, he wasn't about to throw a fit in front of a legitimately nutso person.
"It would appear so, Orderly Bonaparte." Fred started. That was the first time Crispin had actually said anything directed towards him. Actually that was the first time Crispin had said anything that wasn't a gurgle or a manic giggle. Crispin said Bonaparte like it was a joke. Fred stared a moment longer, before Crispin shot him a look that said, very clearly, 'What are you looking at?' Fred cleared his throat.
"So, uh... I'm... kinda tired..." Fred offered lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the game board, couldn't help but wonder why his strategies sucked as much as they did and why the loony whackjob across from him was doing fine. A fine layer of sweat broke out on his forehead as Crispin spoke his next words.
"Would you like to play again?"
Well... Well, he'd have to win at least once, right?
End