"Hold still, Mikey," Jeremy fussed, trying to pick the lint off his buddy's jacket. "I can't believe that you managed to get lint all over a leather jacket. It's leather for God's sake. There is no lint. Why did you put this in the sweater closet anyway? We have a closet for fall and winter coats, they don't have lint. Why didn't you put this thing in there? It's the same thing with ties. Why can't you tie one? You're twenty seven. It's like tying shoes."

"I can tie a tie," Mike sniffed wryly, smiling an itsy bitsy smile. Jeremy looked at him with an unimpressed expression raising an eyebrow, a silent reminder of a month ago, when a tipsy Mike Schmidt was crying on a half asleep Jeremy Fitzgerald's shoulder about not knowing how to tie a bow tie. "I just can't untie it, I tie it into a knot."

"Oh, alright," Jeremy sighed, preferring to just end the conversation there and then because he knew Mike would just argue his head off. He dusted off a last bit of lint, straightened the jacket, and appreciatively glanced over the outfit he chose for Mike. He fixed the jacket onto his shoulders. He smiled. "You doing alright there, Michael?"

"Uh… yeah, I suppose," he mused, a snort escaping. Man, real emotions are great. "Just a bit nervous, ya know. Haven't seen my brother in twenty years type anxiety. And then he literally comes waltzing into my life again in the same place? It's just…."

"Weird?" Fritz offered, looking over the top of his book. Mike nodded. The atmosphere of the room quieted until they heard the front door click shut. A moment later, the door opened into the boys' room, the one they all share,d and Vincent strode in, hopping onto his top bunk. Even with their combined salaries, they could all only afford a one bedroom, and bought three bunkbeds for the six, I mean, five of them. Their last roommate had gotten a side job of home breaking for the government and himself for a few months, his bed empty but with a promise of return. The arrangement was as follows: Vincent's bed was above Scott's; Fritz was above Mike; and Jeremy slept under Edward's empty bunk. Vincent scowled down at them, a rare sight as he usually wore a smirk or a smile, in a generally cheery mood. Jeremy stared back in surprise, his regular holographic question marks exclamation points. They quickly turned into interrobangs. Fritz closed his book and put it in his lap. "Are you ok, Vin? You seem… hm, a little upset? Dejected? Forlorn? You're usually more… chipper."

"I'll chip you, Smith, you and your nerdy mind," Vincent emptily threatened. Then he shrugged, pushing himself up onto his pillow, then barrel rolling over so his face was deeply planted in its fluff. A muffled, "I've never been better in my whole d*** life."

"Alright Vinny," Mike chuckled, rolling his grey brown eyes and folding his arms, earning a irritated and disappointed cluck from Jeremy for messing up his jacket yet again. "What happened between you and Scott? Don't think we didn't notice that you were gone for the past eight hours. The Rouge Scarf opens in a half hour."

"Nothing," he blurted, swinging into a sitting position, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He swooped downward, snatching Scott's pillow and hugging it to his chest. He seemed to curl inward in an upset thought. "I definitely didn't do something incredibly stupid that might've ruined everything even more. Definitely not that."

"Purple… I think you should tell us what really happened," Jeremy said softly, pulling himself onto his friend's bed, sitting down next to him, their height difference even more apparent than usual, Vincent a full head above him. "I know that Scott is hard on the outside, but I'm pretty sure that he just… was hurt before. Don't you ever notice how he never talks about previous relationships? He just needs a bit of time, whatever happened wasn't either of your faults."

"NO!" Vincent burst, making Jeremy flinch back for a moment. "It wasmy fault though, I did something dumb that I shouldn't've and now I'm worried about what's going to happen later!"

He slapped a hand over his mouth and began shaking, tears forming rapidly in his eyes.

"Look at me," he laughed, voice trembling. "I'm worried about the consequences of my actions. That's a f-first, am I right? It's like… like I, I wasn't thinking, thinkin' about what I w-was doing… heh, I… I, I…."

"Sh, sh, it's okay Vin, you did nothing wrong, it's alright," Jeremy soothed him, rubbing calming circles in his back. Unbeknownst to him, Fritz and Mike also loosened up, breathing slower and calmer. (He just had that kind of voice. You know, that voice? The one that they put in those documentaries? The one you listen to to help fall asleep? Thatvoice? Yeah.) The purple man's shakes turned into shudders, which smoothed into shivers. His sobs shifted into hiccups. "There now. That's better. Do you want to say what happened, or do you want to just breathe? Your choice."

"I… I want to talk about it," Vincent nearly whispered. Fritz discreetly took out his phone and texted Flug that they might be late. He replied with a 'lol same :D'. Fritz suspected it may have been a silent plea for help. "I was literally one foot out the door, I should've left and gone. But… but I didn't, I went back inside… I lifted his mask…."

"That's not that bad," Mike said, even as the red alarm of panic whirled in his head. "He can't be that mad for ju-"

"And I kissed him."

The room fell silent. It felt like the air from the room had suddenly been suctioned out, the warmth sapped from the dry area, as though the senses of security and power to fix the situation ripped from their grasps.

Suddenly a light tinkling laugh filled the void, Jeremy, ever the optimist, found something to smile upon.

"That's okay!" he pulled Vincent closer, wrapping him in a one armed hug. The others stared at him. "Knowing you, you didn't kiss him on the lips- you're a lot less brazen than you make yourself out to be, and you're a romantic- you probably said something nice or cute along with it, and Scott? He probably doesn't mind. He may have even liked it."

"Did you ever notice how Jeremy knows us a lot better than it seems?" Fritz whispered to Mike. He shook his head. "Me neither."

"Anyways, he'll get over it," Mike added with a shrug and a prayer. Vincent perked up slightly, Fritz giving him a quick glance. "It's not like you attacked him or ruined a specific cup of his."

They all took a moment to shudder in memory of the time Eggs almost smashed Phone Guy's favorite mug. He was barely able to move the next day after being tackled so roughly. No one knew why he was so attached to it, but they knew not to mess with it.

"You sure he's not gonna be mad?" Vincent asked softly, playing with his long hair. He looked slightly sad and susceptible, in desperate need of reassurance. "I'm kinda really very worried he is… you sure he's not?"

"Yes," he replied confidently.

"Definitely," Fritz continued with a smile.

"Absolutely," Jeremy finished, grinning and giving him a final hug before sliding off the bunk. "Now, should we head off? It's 12:16, we're already late."

"Yeah, let's go," Fritz agreed, glancing at his watch. "But something tells me that they're gonna be later than us."

Something.

Flug stood very d*** still in his lab. Underneath his paper bag mask, he was the very image of beauty. And anger. That too. Did I mention his lab was on fire? Well. Now you know. And so did everyone else in Black Hat Inc. After all, they all were in the lab. It had started with the evil scientist deciding that now was the perfect time to test his auto outfitter.

It had worked perfectly when he stepped through, his lab coat and slacks transformed into a jean and tee shirt combo. He grinned at himself in the mirror, even though he couldn't see it. Moments later, Dementia was dressed in a short green dress with torn jeggings. Even 5.0.5. was wearing a nice tuxedo tee. It was Blake who seemed to have a problem getting an outfit. He kept using the device far after it had begun smoking, and when it blew up, he claimed that it was faulty. A few seconds later, he got a text from Fritz reading that they might be late. A rough chuckle escaped his throat even as angry tears filled his eyes while he typed a response. Black Hat yelled to Flug from the other end of the lab where he landed after the explosion that "Something is broken with his 'dressy thingy'." That set Dr. Flug off on a rampage, fuming and explaining sharply to a vacuous Black Hat how it was his fault, not Flug's, that it exploded. Even after this lengthy tirade of elucidation Black Hat simply said:

"So it's your fault?"

And Flug lunged at him with supreme anger, hands outstretched, ready to throttle his boss. Dementia joined into the fray with a wild fervor and maniacal laughter, the poor blue bear left out of the insanity, so of course he had to barge in and sit on Black Hat and Dementia to keep them from moving.

And so Flug stood, still, in his lab, breathing heavily. 5.0.5. tilted his head a bit, and the mad doctor's anger abated. He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. And another one. He felt calmer now, relaxed. He rolled his tense shoulders, and the bear hopped off the other two villains.

"That was fun!" Dementia giggled girlishly, and Flug rolled his eyes even as a huff of laughter escaped him. She rubbed the giant blue flowerbearing bear's stomach, making him laugh as well. "Wasn't it, ya goof? Yes it was! Yepper doodles!"

"Here we go again," Black Hat let out his own evil chuckle. He extended a hand toward Dr. Flug. "No harm done, correct, Doctor?"

"Of course sir," he replied beaming, taking his boss's hand and shaking it. Blake grinned, and tried to take his hand out of Flug's suddenly vice like grip. His eyes narrowed as he tightened his hand more. Black Hat's eyebrows raised in alarm, and he could practically see Flug grinning manically under the mask. "Joy buzzer."

The jolt that ran though his arm still surprised him, even though he was expecting it. After the initial wave of shock (in more ways than one), a fit of giggles burst from him. It felt good to have a team of competent supervillains that didn't mind putting him in his place every so often. It was, if he was being honest, grounding in a way. And they knew that no matter what happened, it would be hard to actually hate each other. They were a mismatched family, and sometimes that's the best kind there is. Family… wow, did their mom really kill herself? The thought alone made his stomach churn, happiness whipped clean out of his system. She was such a strong, independant woman, so much so that Blake had almost thought her immortal… and yet she was killed by her own hand? It sounded so absurd, yet the absurdity made it seem more real. And their father killed in the line of duty? It was a harsh realization, as years ago, he received a letter from the Army. He had thrown it away, not understanding why it was sent to him. Had Mike read it before their mother? Did he try to hide it? Or was it the exact opposite? His eyes aimlessly wandered over the lab. They came to rest on one of the inventions, it just seemed like a small paper bag, but Black Hat knew it had the potential to be anything if Flug put his heart to it. A lizard in a cage, deftly climbing the glass walls brought his mind to Dementia, the insane but secretly caring girl, who he learned to accept for who she is, an amazing person. A tiny potted flower, the same as 5.0.5.'s, was sitting on the window sill, a bright spot in the bleak night sky, just like the bear himself. It was good to have a family, but now is the time to fix the broken half of his, and he was ready. Nervous, yes, but ready.

With a snap of his fingers, the ash and smoke vanished from the team, and he smiled. Without saying a single word, the group trooped out to the car, where Cam-bot was waiting. They all got in, and strapped in for one h*** of a night.

Black Hat stepped out of the limo, taking in a breath of the crisp and arid night air. It was a good time for a few drinks and some dancing. Flug and Dementia followed him out of the car and into the cool midnight. Even though they were half a block away from the club, they could still hear the pounding music. Dementia chuckled, doing a small spin with her quick step, eager to join the party. Flug laughed and caught up to her, 5.0.5. right by their heels. Black Hat grinned to himself, as his team's joviality was contagious, before hurrying after them himself. As they neared the bar, they heard more laughter coming around the bend. The group of four security guards, dressed casually, turned the corner, Vincent giving a headlocked Jeremy a nuggie, guffawing while yelling a joking "Submit, little mortal!"

"N-never!" Jeremy gasped, before cracking up and bursting into laughter. "Help! AHHHAHAHAAH! Fritz - HAHAHAH! HELP ME! AHHAHHA!"

"I'll save you!" Fritz "heroically" volunteered, lifting Vincent above his head and taking off running with him hauled in the air. His eyes widened when he realized his momentum was too great to stop before crashing into Dementia. "LOOK OUT!"

But it was no use. He, while trying to skid to a halt, rammed into the pink haired gal, Vincent flying into Flug's chest, forcing him to fall, tripping the half jogging Black Hat, and Jeremy, who had been running to catch up, slipped in a puddle fell on top of all of them. 5.0.5., being sweet and naïve, flopped down with them, leaving Mike as the only one standing. His face was blank at first, but he chuckled, then giggled, then laughed so hard his sides hurt. They all got up and got into the bar, at first being halted for 5.0.5.'s non-humanity, but security begrudgingly and fearfully let him in after Flug held up a gun.

Practically the moment they walked in, all eyes were on them. A few of the girls did double takes before heading over to Fritz, who was easily flustered by the attention, before finding he was enjoying it, so he took one of the gals to the dancefloor. Jeremy and 5.0.5. went to the bar stools, getting ice cream. Dementia spotted a few good looking guys and girls, and tore down to ask if they'd like to dance with her, dragging Flug along to meet someone he might like.

"Is she bi?" Mike asked Blake as they slid in by a table. "Dementia, I mean."

"Hm? Oh, yeah," he laughed. "Bi as all h***. And that purple one," he nodded his head toward Vincent, who was hanging out with Fritz, "what's his name? He's gay, right?"

"Vincent is the gayest of all the gay gays," his brother very seriously informed him, before breaking out into a grin. "But he's got his eyes set on Scott and Scott only. He absolutely adores him, practically idolizing him."

"Flug told me you all live together," Black Hat said smoothly, waving down a waitress. "If Vincent has an attraction to Scott, doesn't that pose a problem?"

"Not really," Mike chuckled, then blushed. Vincent waded through the dance floor to get to the two, folding his arms and propping himself up on Mike's head. "But, uh, there have been… very awkward moments pertaining to… um, short lapses of reason."

"Like the time you and Fritz got the nightshift off, and were alone in the apartment since Scott and I took the shift and Jeremy went to visit his uncle?" he asked, lazily grinning down at his red faced friend. "And you two got smashed an-"

"That's enough, Vince," he coughed, blushing redder than a tomato. "Just stop. Now."

"Alright," Vincent rolled his eyes, then giggled. Then he began humming. "Mike and Fritz, sitting at home drunk, f- u-"

"That's enough!" Mike exclaimed, his ever present security guard cap reading 'he's in for it', then he wrapped his arms around Purple, and flipped him onto the bar table. They were face to upside down face. "Stop. Right here, right now."

"c-" he continued, smirking like the the devil at the mortified Mike. Blake was forcing himself with all his willpower not to grin, and failing. "Should I finish or do you get the point?"

"Oh. My. Dear. Frikin'. Lord." Mike growled, then shoved him off the table onto the floor. "How I put up with you, I'll never know." He glanced at his brother, who looked like he ate a lemon. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Black Hat huffed, forcing himself not to laugh. He broke, and began howling with mirth. "It's just that that was hilarious! You're makin' me proud, lil' bro."

"Don't call me that."

It was spoken sharp and harsh, no sugar coat hiding anything. Mike, after meeting his brother's eyes, changed his focus onto a stain on the wooden table, upset. Blake extended a hand, but drew it back, and with a groan, leaned back.

"This isn't working, is it?" he mumbled, finally getting the waitress to them, asking for a scotch, Mike a chardonnay. "I can't help thinking of you like a friend that I accidentally cut ties with. Not a brother that I really hurt."

"And I can't help thinking about you," Mike paused and glanced toward Jeremy and 5.0.5., who were talking to a younger guy who looked miserable. Jeremy said something, and 5.0.5. patted the guy's back. He seemed to cheer up, and Mike smiled sadly. "Like a stranger that knew once, but not anymore."

"Oh…?" Black Hat took a sip of his drink, savoring the burning sting as it ran down his throat. "And do you want to… reconnect, to rebuild our broken little family?"

"I hope," he replied, noticing Fritz dancing with a pleasant looking girl. He grinned lightly. "Maybe our family doesn't have to be so small. I have Vincent, Fritz, Jeremy, Eggs, and Scott. That's my family. You have Flug, Dementia, and 5.0.5.. I think our family would actually be a pretty nice size."

"So it seems," Blake, mused, then became somber, "but who's Eggs?"

"Oh!" Mike laughed for a moment, then took a swig of his wine. "I forgot that you didn't meet he- him. He's a home breaker - not like family ruiner, but breaking into homes for the government as well as for himself. It's only a temporary shift though, he's going to come home soon. He was the night guard at our sister location, but that shut down, so he's waiting for his papers to be processed at our place."

"Wow, so he just breaks into homes?" he grinned. "I might have a few jobs for him."

"Oh no you don't," Mike jokingly warned. "I looked up your cooperation earlier, and man, believe me, that's some crazy stuff. An anti gravity ball? That's really cool!"

"Flug would be glad to know you think so," Blake said softly, stirring his drink, absent minded. "Hmm."

"Mhm."

"So…"

"Yeah."

"I'm…."

"What?"

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"I dunno. Masks, I guess."

"Ah," Mike nodded slowly, suddenly forlorn and removed. "I feel like everyone wears a mask. Like a façade, a shield."

"Flug wears a mask because it comforts him," Black Hat sighed, glancing at the doctor and Dementia, neither of whom had found a partner, taking to dancing with each other. "Quells his anxiety. Soothes his fear. I was wondering… why does Scott wear one?"

"Uhm… We…." Mike suddenly looked uncomfortable, but then He acquired a lost glaze on his eyes, and they flicked as though he was reading, brows furrowed and jaw tight but not clenched. "We don't like talking about that. I was there… when we found him…. It's not a good memory. I really wish it had never happened…. He didn't deserve it."

"Deserve what?" Blake asked from the edge of his seat, suddenly far more curious than he had been five minutes before. "What happened?"

"Springlock suits happened."

Black Hat suddenly remembered the crack that resounded when Mike's skull was broken through, locking onto his frontal lobe. He tried to force the horrific memory from the front of his mind, but it seemed to be burned to his eyes.

"Like, um, like what happened to you?" he immediately regretted asking, and grimaced. "Like what I did to you. You don't need to answer that. Sorry."

"Don't be," Mike sighed with a wave of his hand. He stared at it for a moment, as though it was a strange sort of bug. "But yes. It was similar, but much worse. It's a wonder he didn't die of blood loss. He claimed that he cut off the circulation, but I don't think that's enough for a week of bleeding out. Still, it's not my place to question."

"Who's place is it, then?" Black Hat asked, intregued. "It seems like more I ask about Scott, the less I know about him."

"Heh, that's because you're asking about what he has, not what he doesn't," he chuckled, a strange knowing smile with twinkling eyes. "For example, he doesn't have any siblings, but has twelve cousins and a niecelet. Actually, he has one sibling. Oh man… can't forget 'em!"

Blake gave him an astonished and blank look.

"You can meet all of them by Thanksgiving," Mike continued, smirking lightly. "Consider this an invitation."

"Huh?" he mumbled dumbly. "Oh. Oh! Well, um, sure! Of course! Uh… when's Thanksgiving again?"

"In a month and a little," he replied, draining his drink, ordering another. "Oh, you'll love it!"

"Alright, but what makes you so certain?" Blake asked, looking as uncertain as Mike appeared assured. "I hardly know you, let alone Scott's family!"

"If there's anything I know for certain about Scott and the whole Cawthon clan," Mike giggled suddenly, causing Black Hat to start unexpectedly. "Is that they're all softies of the highest order. Like a new down pillow. Scott's the hard boiled one of the family, and even he's a huge sweetheart."

"Really now? I seem to recall him friendzoning Vincent,in a somewhat harsh manner," Black Hat grinned, swallowing a bit more of the fiery water. "What with that, eh? Why not give him a chance?"

"That's not really important," Mike said, but sent him a warning glare. "How about you? What did you do after running away?"

"Not much, but after a while, I got sucked into the underground, not pretty, but hey, at least I could put my mangled Spanish to use, eh?" Blake admitted and Mike chucked. "I mean, sure, it wasn't all fun and games, and of course, I soon found myself between a rock and a hard place. I know what dad said about using our powers, but I couldn't help myself. Then I couldn't stop. I nearly destroyed an entire city. I found out that there were more people like me, villainous people. Dementia found me. I found Flug as he was making 5.0.5.. Ah, yes. We're the perfect, mismatched team."

"Hah! It's nice to know that we both have some sort of familia," he snorted, kicking back and snatching a beer can and cracking it open. "Better than sticking together with no one and hating each other, am I right?"

"Amen to that, brother," Blake nodded solemn and slow, clicking their glasses together. "If only our mom could see us now. She'd be happy and proud. I wish she were still here."

"Yeah," Mike sighed, looking into his can, then glancing off at Fritz, currently drunk, sashaying with seven different people. "How the h*** did we end up here in the first place. Honestly, I think Mom is watching anyways. She always said-"

"A mother always knows," Black Hat finished, polishing off his glass. "And we'd ask,"

"Knows what?" he giggled again, reminiscent of all the small sentiments infringed on his memory. "And, and she'd answer 'everything,' and we'd all laugh. But… sometimes it still seems true, do you know the feeling."

It wasn't a question. Blake and Mike both knew that. Even though they had been so cosmically different, they both were aware of the fact that their mother was omniscient. It just felt so natural. They both knew and had the feeling, and were acutely aware of the other knowing as well. Their mother just knew everything.

"Yeah," he said anyways, feeling quite sober suddenly. It was as though mentioning their mother made him a twelve year old again. His mood shifted just as quickly as before. He laughed aloud, semi startling Mike. "Yeah, she always seemed so mystic and s***. It was actually surprising to find out she wasn't."

"Yes, exactly," Mike crowed, laughing. "She was like, 'you'll marry a beautiful rich young girl,' and when I asked what if I was gay, she said, 'well, he'd be tall, dark, and handsome'!"

"She told me the same thing!" Black Hat exclaimed with a slur, already back to his inebriated state. "It's so hard to disbelieve her, even now, after all these long years."

"She was unbelievable, but it was intoxicating to hear her," Mike sighed, thinking about the incense she burnt at nearly all hours of life. She smoked, too, despite all the members of her family demanding and pleading her to stop. "Dad was the complete opposite, remember?"

"Mhmm, he was quieter, and a pessimist," Blake nodded and smiled. "Though he prefered 'realist', but we all knew better."

"Yep, and he was… surprisingly kind hearted," Mike added with a shrug and a melancholic smile. "I guess neither of us got that bit of him."

"That's not true," Blake defended. "You got that from him. You might not notice it, but you're really nice. H***, you're trying to reconnect with me, even knowing who I am and considering what I did to you. You got his kindness, don't deny it."

"Think so, Blakeney Hyman Schmidt?" Mike asked with a horrifically fake sneer that was poorly disguising his grin. His brother frowned. "I know you hate your full name, so-"

"And you hate yours, too," he cut in. Mike suddenly widened his eyes in dreaded anticipation. "Michael Julius Wester Schmidt."

"You're just as bad as Vincent," Mike gasped, feigning horror and offense. "How could you?!"

"Just like I could do this!"

He poured the rest of his glass over Mike's head. He stared at him sputtering. He then snapped out of it, dumping his beer can onto Black Hat's suit, who gaped at him like a cod fish before stealing the bottle of wine from the people sitting behind them. And thus, the bar fight had been instigated, ending with Flug and Fritz dragging them all out and paying the huge bill (and the fines). The evil doctor glanced around the street corner, and realized with a sigh that cam-bot had returned home. Without them.

"Uh, you all could come over to our place?" Fritz suggested, shifting a semi unconscious Mike against his shoulder, struggling to support both him and Jeremy, who was still sleeping. "It's not that big, but, it'll probably do for tonight."

"Hm, I guess," Flug said with a bit of a slur, Black Hat leaning heavily on him, half snoring. 5.0.5. tiredly carried Dementia. "It would be safer than to walk all the way to the mansion…. Fine. I'll take you up on the offer."

Mansion? Fritz felt his mouth dry. What the heck would he think of their one bedroom, one half bath, apartment? Good God, how short was Mike's stick compared to Blake's? Nonetheless, he nodded, and started to lead the way home, pausing to glance at the clock on the main street. 3:42. Scott would be home around 9:30, since he'd be taking the first shift… he wouldn't mind if Dementia borrowed his bed, would he? Unfortunately for Fritz, they were at the little place they called home. He chewed the inside of his cheek to avoid looking at Flug as he coded them in. He took the lead up the stairs, barely able to balance Mike and Jeremy. Flug glanced around the empty hallway, taking into account the fact that his awake companion was pointedly keeping his gaze away even as he fumbled with the lock. He noticed the cracks in the wall, the unfinished paint job, and it hit him suddenly. They were as poor as H***. Why didn't Blake reach out to his brother earlier, or why didn't Mike ask for help? They stumbled into the miniscule kitchenette, and Flug registered the food stamps application sitting on the counter, amid anger crumpled bills and receipts. He sighed, following Fritz into the bedroom, waiting for him to make arrangements, watching as he carefully loaded Mike and Jeremy into their beds. Vincent, whom they hadn't noticed due to his lack of speech, hopped onto his bunk, falling asleep promptly. 5.0.5. plopped down, Dementia still sleeping on his stomach.

"You can take Egg's bed," Fritz whispered to Flug, pointing at it. "He's out of town for a little, he won't mind. Blake can sleep in Scott's bed."

The inventor numbly nodded, mind still reeling from the information. He helped get his boss into the empty bunk, then climbed up to his own. Fritz glanced around the room, sighed and mutely clamored into his bed, and gently clicked of the light.

"G'night," he mumbled.

"G'night," came the the in sync chorus of Vincent, Jeremy and Mike, much to Flug's slowly shrinking surprise. They were tighter knit than he had thought.