Yay! Two updates in one day, hip-hip- hurrah!
(Wow. I'm a poet, and I didn't know it. Until now, of course. Now, what rhymes with course?)
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT MAY APPEAR, AS SLAUGHTER AND MAC WASTE A LOT OF IT ARGUING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Amanda Wearing was not a very good cook. At all. And so, when she offered to make dinner, Slaughter and Mac quickly made their excuses.
"I'm really not hungry," Slaughter said quickly. "I had a very filling cuppa this morning, and-"
Mac chose to go for the more subtle excuse. "My food's burnt."
Amanda raised her eyebrows. "No, it's not."
Mac quickly lit a fireball and set his dinner on fire. "Yes, it is."
"What the hell-" Amanda jumped up and grabbed a tea towel from the nearby work-counter while Slaughter choked on her water from laughing. Amanda quickly patted out the fire.
"See?" Mac pointed to the unrecognizable dinner. "Burnt. Very."
"Whoever allowed you to look after us," Slaughter added, hiccuping slightly, all previous bad mood forgotten. "Is a sick, deprived person who should burn in Hell."
Amanda threw the towel into the sink at the same time as metaphorically throwing in the towel. "Fine," she sighed, raising her hands in defeat. "We can get a takeaway."
"Chinese." Slaughter said quickly. Mac glared at her.
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
Amanda quietly got up from the table and went into the hall, where the phone was located.
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
Mac took a deep breath before continuing.
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
"Chinese!"
"Indian!"
Slaughter paused. "What were we fighting over, anyway?"
Mac shrugged. "I forget."
Amanda slipped back into the kitchen. "I ordered pizza."
Slaughter shrugged. "Could be worse!" she said cheerfully.
Amanda grinned. "Y'know, you two remind me of Skulduggery and Valkyrie sometimes."
"Take that back," growled Slaughter. "I am nothing like that amateurish, stupid, reckless excuse for a sorcerer."
"And I have much better fashion sense then Skulduggery!" Mac added.
Amanda nodded. "See? That's something Skulduggery would say, isn't it?"
Slaughter pointed her fork at Mac. "Traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
The doorbell rang, and Amanda got up to answer it.
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
Amanda accepted the boxes of pizza's, and paid the delivery-man out of Mac's wallet without any feelings of guilt.
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
Amanda sat back down at the table and started cutting the pizzas into thirds.
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"I'm not a traitor, I'm just fashionable!"
"You are not fashionable, you're a traitor!"
"Pizza!" Amanda announced, and Slaughter and Mac were momentarily distracted sufficiently as they grabbed slices as big as their heads. Slaughter swallowed it in two point five bites.
"Delicious!" Slaughter announced.
"Definitely," Mac agreed.
Amanda scowled. "Don't forget, you two, I can kill you in four moves."
"And I can kill you in two moves!" Slaughter countered. "Pull out gun. Shoot you. Done."
"Don't forget disposing of the body."
Slaughter nodded solemnly. "Yes. I would have to dispose of the body. I would most probably eat you."
Amanda made the face. "And I'm supposed to be the werewolf?"
"So," Slaughter said as she and Amanda stepped out into the sunshine. "What's first on the shopping list?"
Amanda checked the list. "Ammo, some new chains for my room, some flowers- flour, sorry, eggs, milk and better- no, butter-, some potion you have to pick up from Saffron's pharmacy-" Amanda made a face. "Knives from Van Dermeer's workshop, and-" Amanda squinted. "You have terrible handwriting, Ter."
"Quit calling me that," snapped Slaughter.
"And a plan to capture Tanith Low." Amanda's eyebrows raised. "You can buy those in Dublin?"
"If you know where to look."
Amanda grinned. "Okay. Well, we might start off buying the groceries so we don't alarm the innocent civilians by bringing knives, bullets, a potion, and a plan to kill Tanith Low into the shop."
"Good point," coincided Slaughter.
"I know. After all, I'm me, aren't I?"
"Are you?"
"Last time I checked, yes."
"Good to know."
"Indeed."
"Oh. And Mac wants some new books." Slaughter held up a copy of Twilight. "Not gory enough for him."
"Mac... was reading... what?"
"Don't try to understand, Amanda, my dear. It would surely melt your brain."
The duo turned the corner onto a decrepit street lined with houses decorated with broken windows and creative graffiti. The footpath was cracked, and no-one was walking.
"This place still creeps me out," commented Amanda. "It creeps me out majorly."
"That's why Sorrow's lives here, isn't it?" noted Slaughter. "No-one comes a-knocking on the chamber door."
"Enough with the literary references!"
"Fine. God, loosen up, would you?"
Amanda had to suppress a smile. Slaughter was telling her to loosen up?