Kitty's on the warpath the next day, so every man is afraid for his life when she calls a team meeting.
Jake's nervous as he peeks into the music room. It's empty… except for Kitty's Beretta pistol, lying on top of the piano where she usually sits. So the girl is here, but she's gone for the moment. Bathroom? He's definitely on edge now; what if he's the only one lounging on the couch when Kitty comes back, and she gets pissed that he's just relaxing there and decides to shoot him in the head before he can whack her bullet out of the air? Should he just turn around, walk back out, and wait for somebody else to come along before he braves walking back in?
No way, moron, he chastises himself. Only girls do that—walk in pairs the bathrooms and crap. He can take it. He can sit on a couch alone and hope his reflexes are fast enough. They usually are. If anyone back in his old life was to ask him how the hell does he manage to hit bullets with an axe that's three-feet wide, even Jake himself wouldn't know. He just… sort of… well, swings the monster. And magically, it usually seems to knock the bullet to the ground.
Keywords being usually. And magically. One day, his luck's going to run out. Then he'll be dead. But until then, he's been pretty good at staying alive. Not-dead. Whatever the hell Sam wants everybody to call themselves. He laughs bitterly to himself as he saunters over to his usual couch—the one in the back, basically pushed against the wall on the highest tier of the stepped platforms that comprise the back of the music room. Death is cheap in this world, because they don't actually stay dead; technically, they have to be dead in the first place to arrive in this afterlife. But back in a past life, he'd been very, very lucky… up until the day he wasn't.
Jake peers curiously at his usual couch. Something about his usual hangout is a bit… off. It's not pushed up against the wall anymore; in fact, there's just enough room for a human body to fit there.
As he approaches with slow, measured steps, a choked sob escapes from behind the couch, quickly followed by at least two different sounds of "Shh!" Then some heavy, panicked breathing.
Sighing, Jake yanks his couch forward. "You guys are the worst hiders—whoa."
Artie looks up at him meekly, lying directly on top of Blaine. In turn, Blaine is sprawled on top of Sugar, his hand reaching further downward to hold Sam's mouth shut. Tears are leaking out of Sam's eyes; maybe he is that terrified of Kitty finding them, but Jake has the feeling that it's because Sugar's digging her three-inch sharpened fingernails into the blonde's shoulders.
The four-body pile topples over seconds after Jake yanks their support away.
"Oh god," Sam gasps as Sugar backward-somersaults to her feet, her eyes sparkling playfully as her tail flicks from right to left. "Blaine! The water!"
Blaine dives, his hand reaching between Jake's legs. "Holy shit," he gasps, leaping over the guy and hiding safely on the couch, using a pillow to hide his crotch. Instead, Blaine snatches a spray bottle off the ground behind where Jake had once been and aims it at Sugar. "Back off, cat girl, and nobody gets hurt," he snarls.
"Rowr," Sugar hisses, her cat ears flattening against her brunette hair. She backs away from Blaine and the dreaded water—then, without warning, she pounces at Sam.
Blaine's aim is remarkably good, and a tiny squirt of water hits Sugar in the face. Yowling, she changes directions in midair, shooting across the room to land on the ground next to the drum set. She's back on all four limbs within seconds, though, her back arching, her teeth bared—and wow, Jake can't believe that he's never noticed, but every single tooth is wickedly sharp.
Unique enters the room then, takes stock of the entire situation, and, simpering, walks to stand next to Jake. He leans over, whispering, "What, you're not going to help? You're her roommate."
"One word, hun: catfight."
Jake playfully bumps her bosom with his elbow. "I think that was two."
The black girl waves a hand at him. "Look it up, Jake; catfight is one word, and it be goin' down right now."
Something glows in Sugar's brown eyes, illuminating them red. Unique's body stiffens, and she mutters, "Sixth sense," to Jake as she pulls a thin metal staff out of nowhere.
Jake pulls his axe off the magnet attached to his back. Blaine and Sam notice Jake's battle-ready stance, and, despite the previous lighthearted fight to the death they'd been about to jump into, take Unique's interpretation as word and prepare for a Reaper sighting.
A pause. Sugar's eyes shine a brilliant red. Then: "Kitty's back and somebody's going to not-die."
When Kitty walks into the music room three seconds later, all weapons are stowed away and all team members are sitting innocently on their usual couches.
"Right," Kitty starts calmly, hopping onto the piano… right next to her handgun. She's not touching it, but her hand rests casually about two inches from it. Jake wonders if he could react fast enough if she did a quick draw. "First order of business: we've got somebody to thank for screwing up our medical facility."
"Weston is absent without leave," Tina murmurs as she enters the music room, Ryder following sheepishly.
Brittany prances in seconds later, tossing in a pirouette for good measure. "Baby I got a plan/ Run away as fast as you can."
Kitty raises an eyebrow. "Brody never runs from a good fight. Fine, first order of business…"
Jake's probably a horrible person for his first reaction being a sigh in relief when she grabs her firearm and aims, not at him, not at anybody sitting on the couches, but at the noob. To his credit, though, his second reaction launches him off his butt to sail over two couches, swinging his axe right down in front of Ryder.
And just as usual, he magically hits Kitty's bullet out of the air again.
Dayum, he's one lucky son of a gun.