Quackity opens the door slowly, peeking in first. Then he turns back to the other two, opening the door fully so they can explore this place for any zombies.

It's a simple apartment, with a living room right as you step in, a bedroom to the left, and a small and short hallway to the right that contains a storage closet and the bathroom. A kitchen to the right, behind the living room, and a dining area on the left.

Tommy flops down on the couch with a big sigh, Quackity rolling his eyes in response with a small smile.

"I think it's zombie-free," Tommy states, crossing his arms behind him and leaning back on the furniture. Wilbur glances around a bit before looking at Quackity expectantly.

Quackity shifts, turning away. "Yeah, this place will do."

"Thank fuck," Tommy says, somehow slouching even more. "My feet hurt so bad."

Quackity catches the deadpanned expression Wilbur gives, quickly looking away and deciding not to comment on it. "Well, it's already dark out and I'm pretty tired-"

"So am I," Tommy adds, earning a nod of acknowledgment from Quackity.

"And so is Tommy, so we should get settled in for some sleep."

Tommy agrees, leaving it to fall silent as they both turn to Wilbur who doesn't say anything for a good couple of seconds before shrugging.

"Sure. You guys get your sleep, I'm not tired."

Quackity gives the smallest smile before focusing his attention on figuring out sleeping spots as Tommy yawns.

Quackity walks over to the bedroom, shrugging at the bed before looking over at Tommy and Wilbur. "Well, we got a bed and a couch."

Neither say anything so Quackity clears his throat. "I'll be fine out on the couch."

"Okay, Tommy, you get the bed." Wilbur waves to the room lazily from where he's leaning against a wall. Tommy tilts his head.

"Where are you sleeping?" Tommy asks.

"I'm not tired so it doesn't matter," Wilbur says, crossing his arms. But the short silence is interrupted when he yawns.

"You just yawned," Tommy exclaims, pointing at him.

"Okay, so?"

"So you are tired," Tommy states.

When Wilbur looks at Quackity, probably for some sort of backup, the man simply looks away and he has to ignore that fact.

"A bit," Wilbur says, tilting his head, the silence filling the room as Tommy blinks. "But you can take the bed."

"Two can't fit on the couch," Tommy says and he's true. It's kinda a bit of a smaller couch. Just a bit. Or more. Quackity seems to have the realization, eyebrows furrowing.

Wilbur frowns with annoyance. "Well, I'm not sharing with you." It's directed towards Tommy who easily is unaffected by it, looking at Quackity expectantly.

"What?"

Tommy clasps his hands with a smile. "I'm sleeping on the couch."

Quackity blinks. "What?"

Wilbur shakes his head, sighing as he pushes off the wall. "Yeah, that actually makes sense."

Tommy's already throwing his legs up on the couch when Quackity looks back at him. "I was gonna take the couch-"

Wilbur cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to the bedroom almost like he's an old man. "Come on now, let the teenager have his own space."

"Goodnight," Tommy calls over the twos' mumbling, looking around before grabbing a pillow that was on the floor and puffing it up before snuggling into it as the bedroom door is shut.

The silence is deafening in the room, Quackity standing by the door he's just closed with his attention on the carpeted floor. Wilbur sways his arms back and forth until he reaches the messy desk in the right corner that's away from the door. The whole room is messy, with papers, a desk, and cabinets to the right, a wrecked bookshelf and a closet to the left, and a bed with a generous amount of five blankets in the middle.

Quackity snatches a blanket, the sudden movement making Wilbur whip his head around just to see him walk out the door. He walks in barely seconds later, clearing his throat as the door closes once again.

Quackity sits down on the bed, sparingly glancing over at Wilbur who's facing the wall. "Just wanted Tommy to have a blanket."

"Just wanted to get out of the room a little longer, got it."

Quackity sighs at his tone. "Wilbur, don't-"

"No, you don't even want to share a room with me, I know," Wilbur says so evenly that Quackity wonders if it's even real. The simmering tension is definitely real though, it buzzes in the air that's almost suffocating them.

"It's not like that." Quackity grimaces, lowering his head to focus on the sheets below him.

"Then what is it like?" Wilbur bites back, turning to face Quackity who holds his tongue like always and scoots to the far side of the bed.

"I'm too tired for this," Quackity grumbles, pulling a blanket on top of himself and rolling on his side, back facing Wilbur. "You should get some sleep too."

Wilbur stiffens, eventually giving up and almost cautiously getting in the bed, keeping to his side. He sits down, legs crossed and a blanket engulfing him waist down. He taps his knees awkwardly, looking all around the room minus Quackity's area.

"Lay down and go to sleep," Quackity complains with a yawn, looking up at Wilbur who wonders if he's going to say anything else.

Maybe something about how he's been avoiding Wilbur, or the "arguments" they've had- or about that night, the one that started this all because Quackity couldn't give an answer.

But then it quickly becomes clear that Quackity isn't going to address any of it. So Wilbur hides his discouraged look by laying down, back facing Quackity and his head buried under a pillow.

With everything still unsaid, it takes a while for Wilbur to fall asleep.

It doesn't take him as long to wake up, thanks to the two voices coming from the kitchen that interrupt his sleep.

With a yawn, Wilbur slides out of bed and walks out to the kitchen, hair a mess as he rubs an eye with his sleeve.

"This-" Tommy turns his head to smile at him from where he's sitting on the floor. "Good morning, Wilbur."

Wilbur just hums in response, allowing Tommy to continue being so loud in his ears because wow aren't mornings the best?

"We're playing two truths and a lie, wanna join?" Tommy asks much too energetically for Wilbur's liking. But he only shrugs and Tommy takes it as a yes. "Okay, so," He starts, fully facing Wilbur now and waving over to Quackity who's leaning on the counter. "Quackity said that he used to work at a casino, his last name is HQ, or his favorite color is a dark blue."

Wilbur lightly smiles through his sleepiness. "These are lame."

Quackity crosses his arms, offended just as Tommy simply grins at the comment saying, "I'm gonna have to agree with that."

"Well sorry it's only the morning and I couldn't come up with something genius that'll stump you for hours," Quackity sarcastically says, hands dropping at his side after waving them around.

"The lie is his last name being HQ," Wilbur states informally like it's something he's known for years. Then, his face twists with confusion. "I mean, what type of name is that?"

"Yeah, that is a weird last name." Tommy nods thoughtfully before pointing a finger in the air. "My last name is Innit. Tommy Innit."

"Okay well that's a little weird too," Wilbur mumbles, earning a judging look from Tommy.

"Well, what's yours, huh?" Tommy questions.

Wilbur scoffs, looking around aimlessly before half-shrugging. "Craft."

"Then I would say you and me both have last names that lie somewhere on the weirdness spectrum," Tommy says confidently with contentment which Wilbur doesn't match at all, waving a hand at Tommy dismissively.

Wilbur tries to harshly correct him. "It's you and I-"

"Well you're not my fucking English teacher, mate, so it's you and me," Tommy declares, pointing at himself before smiling like he's in trouble but finding it funny. "Honestly, I think my English teacher might be a zombie. Or dead."

"Probably," Wilbur says with a shrug, stepping past Tommy with an expressionless face. "And I'm not your mate."

Tommy just acts like somebody just asked a stupid question with an obvious answer before he stands up and rubs his hands together. "So, now that we're all awake, can we eat some breakfast?"

Wilbur eyes them curiously, clearly not believing something. "Why didn't you guys just eat?"

"I wanted to eat with all three of us here," Tommy says, casually walking over to Quackity and leaning on the counter, fixing his hair. "You know, like pals do."

"Okay, well, I'm not your pa-"

"All we have is Cheerios," Quackity tells them, presenting a box with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"Perfect, just what I'm in the mood for." Tommy grins, clasping his hands together and motioning for Quackity to open the box. Neither of them can tell whether Tommy's being sarcastic or not, but the face he makes when Quackity pours him a cup proves he isn't.

Wilbur reluctantly joins him at the table across from the kitchen, silently filling himself a cup when Quackity sets it down before taking a seat.

Tommy pops a handful of Cheerios into his mouth, Wilbur smirking slightly at the idea of their silence being interrupted by a sudden choking because someone was too hungry. He pushes that away with a frown, eyeing his cereal and now wondering if he would be the one.

"So, Tommy," Quackity breaks the silence, resting an elbow on the table. "How well do you think you were managing alone in the apocalypse?"

Tommy swallows, covering his mouth and Wilbur blinks at the manners he has suddenly picked up, turning away and staring at the table when Tommy opens his mouth to speak. "It was rough, that's for sure. But I'm alive, yeah?"

"Yeah. Though, even with us, the apocalypse is still gonna be rough ya know," Quackity says and again, Wilbur knows he can't look into the us, there's nothing to look at. Quackity makes it clear every time he doesn't want to talk, all the times he ignores Wilbur, and when he leaves Wilbur with more questions than answers.

When he tells Wilbur to drop it, or he's too tired to talk about it, or whenever he gets to eye Wilbur with a frown but Wilbur himself never knows anything about it.

Even when he avoids eye contact with Wilbur and turns to Tommy- wow there is a growing list here. Wilbur almost forgets he's with two other people despite one of them being his main focus He thinks he doesn't really want to be sitting here anymore.

Tommy, unaware of Wilbur's internal debate, chuckles. "Oh well I know that mu-"

So Wilbur grabs his cup and leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him with a frown.

Tommy turns his attention away from where Wilbur left, eyeing Quackity with slight confusion lacing his features.

Quackity simply straightens his posture, picking at the chipped paint on the table. "I don't know either."

"Should one of us check-"

"No, give him space," Quackity says calmly that Tommy listens, not without sparing a glance at where Wilbur was previously sitting though, blinking back to his cereal.

Quackity sighs, looking around again and noticing unsurprisingly, nothing new. Tommy is still sitting on the couch in some seemingly pretty deep thought, Wilbur's still in the bedroom, and Quackity itches to do something.

Just about anything would do, something to escape the silent and still atmosphere of this apartment. Come on, they now have a teenager with them, surely it should be a bit louder in here. Quackity frowns, guessing that's just not the case here.

And as if Tommy can read his thoughts, the younger sits up properly from his slouched position. "I'm bored."

Quackity ponders his response, and, after a good couple of seconds, his shoulders go slack in admission. "I am too."

"Well in that case." Tommy shifts in his seat, standing up and catching Quackity's attention. He simply smiles. "I'll grab Wilbur and then the three of us can play a game."

"A game? Wait, Tommy-"

But Quackity only fully processes his words once Tommy's pushing the bedroom door open slowly, peeking in before loudly laughing and Quackity sits back down as he hears Tommy's voice through the cracked door.

He pauses when he hears Wilbur mumble something in reluctance. He doesn't know why, but a frown pulls his lips down and his chest feels heavier. But Quackity's not an idiot, easily connecting the intrusion of new emotion with Wilbur.

When he thinks of Wilbur, the man's probably just sitting there with a methodical and still position despite the melancholic waves washing over him, pointlessly glaring nowhere. Either that or Quackity's dramatic.

(Or maybe it is a bit of both, who really knows?)

Thinking of him makes Quackity's chest turn the weight of an overly packed backpack full of notebooks into a trash bag of rocks, threatening to cut through and fall out, possibly even crush his foot. But that's a strange metaphor and Quackity isn't about to break down. Metaphorically or not.

Still, he can't help the way his head hangs when he thinks about it all. How Wilbur's been around him: tense or tired, not too happy and holding back-

And how it might even partially be Quackity's fault. But wait a minute, didn't Wilbur say something like that?

Yes, he did. And it takes Quackity a hot second before he slumps in his chair when it dawns on him. Wilbur had specifically said Quackity couldn't own up to his faults because he was too busy blaming it on, well, Wilbur .

Quackity, stubborn as ever, tries to ignore the possibility, crossing his arms in opposition despite the way something in his confused brain tells him exactly what he's denying.

Has he been blaming Wilbur? Isn't that why he has been so distant? Right, he blames Wilbur for that night and more. Which Wilbur doesn't even know about. Sure, he knows Quackity's blaming stuff on him, but he doesn't know all of it or even the full why.

But Quackity... Well, Quackity has to think about that too. What is he really ignoring Wilbur for? That's easy, because of that night and the fact that Wilbur knows about Quackity's crush- wait... fine, crush.

He knew about it (still does) and decided to play it out anyway. But when Quackity caught on Wilbur acted confused and has now since been trying to "talk about it". That's what happened.

That's what most likely happened that night.

Quackity pinches his brows, a headache approaching as he shakes his head in an attempt to get rid of it. ' Is that what happened that night? '

And oh what a question that is. Because, listen to this, what if Quackity misread it all and now all of the tense silence between them was useless- even a mistake?

With the way Wilbur tried so hard to talk it out, the way he sounded so lost and regretful each time it secretly threw Quackity off guard... Well, maybe he just might have misread the situation from nights and nights ago.

Pondering the odds of it makes him feel almost embarrassed. If it's true he just assumed Wilbur's intentions weren't any good and pushed him away for it without that being the truth, well obviously that's embarrassing.

But it's also hurtful.

Isn't it?

Quackity, somehow impossibly manages to sink further into the seat, drowning in confusion, embarrassment, a bit of anger- and that same feeling that started all of this and oh. Oh .

How dumb, it's guilt.

He can't just sit there and see Wilbur all sad and bad any longer, never really could without having to take a quick second. He cares about Wilbur, truly does, even if Quackity guessed correctly that night, he still cares for the man. But the possibly Quackity was- is wrong becomes more and more likely the more he thinks.

If Wilbur really doesn't care about Quackity and just wanted a reaction out of him, wouldn't he have given up on trying to fix what happened? Surely he would've not cared too much for the silence between them because he's already gotten what he wants out of Quackity. That can be held up for debate though.

But Quackity remembers both times he's had an argument with Wilbur and how it left him. The first one was the day they got kicked out of their apartment by zombies. He remembers how Wilbur seemed so nervous at first, like bringing up the night before would set something off, and how Quackity only proved him right by returning everything with a sharp bite in his words. Or right after they killed three zombies, when Quackity told him to drop it and Wilbur said he was acting like a dick.

So Quackity ponders this. Is he being a dick?

And the results aren't the best because yikes, he really has been a dick. Ignoring Wilbur, immediately telling him to move on from the subject if that night is brought up, refusing to even give so much as a clue, and pushing Tommy to the spotlight so he doesn't have to face Wilbur.

Pretty big dick behavior.

Quackity can't shrug off any of the many realizations he's had, now it's all-consuming, he can only think about how things have been between them lately and how it all started. Believe it or not (because Quackity from just five minutes ago wouldn't have), it started with Quackity and how he physically pushed Wilbur away before shutting himself in the bedroom and ignoring him from then on, only to argue with him or spare a couple of words necessary for their survival.

He doesn't even know what to do now. With all this guilt because Wilbur's been nothing but miserable lately and it's because of him. If Wilbur was simply trying to be nice that night and Quackity snapped at him for it, then this guilt is reasonably deserved and the pain in Quackity's chest is too. If it's all true and Quackity's been treating Wilbur distantly and rudely all based on an incorrect assumption then he knows he's gonna have to fix something himself.

But that is an if. Now, Quackity just needs to figure out a way to figure that out. Plans have many steps.

So he'll start with the first, sliding out of the chair and peeking into the room where he sees Tommy still trying to get Wilbur off the bed. Quackity frowns, hiding it away before stepping in with a smile. "Tommy? I see you're not very good at persuading people."

He doesn't miss the way Wilbur's eyes widen at the sudden company, looking at him before Wilbur focuses back on the book in his hands. Tommy groans, clearly not appreciating Quackity's comment as he drops to the ground, crossing his legs. "He's impossible. So emo."

Wilbur glares at Tommy offended by that before shrugging it off and laying back on the bed. "Okay, gremlin child."

Tommy looks about ready to push off the ground (making Quackity see the gremlin bit Wilbur mentioned, not that Quackity would admit that), he looks even more offended than when he called Wilbur emo. "But I'm not a child or a-"

"I thought you wanted to play a game," Quackity says, jumping in verbally while remaining right in the doorway. "Not fight."

Tommy considers his words, seeming to ease back into a calmer state as he sits back down and nods. "Oh yeah, you're right." He glances up at Wilbur. "Hey, Wilbur, play a game with us."

"What game?"

"I don't know."

Quackity holds back a shake of his head, crossing his arms. "Guess you've gotta figure that out before asking either of us, Tommy."

Tommy is about to add something argumentative before thinking it through and standing up with a strangely much more subdued mood. "Right, let me do that in my thinking palace ," He says, adding more emphasis on the last two words as he trudges out of the room. But he turns around, looking at them like a teacher that it looks outwardly odd. "So don't come out here, I have some serious thinking and planning to do."

Quackity pauses, blinking before reaching for the doorknob. "Tommy, I don't think-"

"Ah-ah, don't step in the chosen one's thinking palace," Tommy tells him, cutting him off with a smug look before closing the door. "The chosen one needs his privacy," He adds through the door and it sounds like he's reading a script that Quackity just waits it out as he continues. "Please, you are not to bother him while he thinks and ponders."

And then Tommy walks away, no longer keeping the door closed. But right as Quackity's about to open it, he realizes he's gotten some time here. Remember, step one is to figure out how to figure out if he really made a mistake that night, or if he was correct in pushing Wilbur away. So he plans, turning around and slumping against the wall.

It's silent, deafening type silent. Wilbur's still sitting on the bed, face away from Quackity. It creates an extra wall Quackity thinks he might've given the supplies for. He created the tension and space between them by ignoring Wilbur because of a guess he was so sure of. But now, he isn't so sure of it anymore. Wilbur's right, it really is Quackity's fault here, but Quackity blames it on Wilbur. Not any longer though, not unless he's right about that night.

Now he just has to work out if he is or not.

Plus, thinking about it, Wilbur has been the only one making an effort to try and close the icy distance between them and restore how things were before. Actually taking a step at least shows Quackity cares.

So Quackity takes a deep breath, looking at Wilbur and preparing himself. He does care, he doesn't even know if he is right about that night, he could've been tearing himself and their relationship apart for no reason-

Quackity eyes Wilbur carefully, chest heavy. "Wilbur."

Wilbur perks up, almost seeming like he is considering whether he heard it or not before peeking at Quackity curiously and turning away again. It's silent for a moment, then finally, Wilbur fully faces him. "Quackity."

Quackity doesn't know if it's a sense of relief or dread that washes over him, maybe both. He can't help but break eye contact, staring down at the floor as his emotions creep in. "Wilbur, I'm-"

But Tommy bursts open the door, the hesitant and heavy mood vanishes instantly. Unaware of how Quackity internally debates whether to be thankful or not, Tommy grins. "I've got ideas, pals."

He doesn't get an answer, silence settling in as he remains confident in his smile. But then it doesn't stop and his smile falters, eyeing Quackity who seems to be having a staring contest with the floor, and Wilbur who looks like he might be in another world, one that's definitely confusing the shit out of him. Tommy guesses he's imagining being in an alien invasion, he's thought about that one before. But instead, the world threw zombies at him and now he doesn't like to imagine stuff like that just in case it turns to reality.

Tommy clears his throat. "So? I thought we were gonna play a game."

"Did you actually think of one?" Quackity asks, breaking the rather one-sided conversation bit and fixing his beanie, perhaps in a way to drive himself away from the moment a minute before dispute nothing even coming out of it, it didn't even start before it came to an end. He holds back a conflicted and stressed groan, keeping his hands at his sides.

"Sure did. I thought of three," Tommy says with a nod. "Hide and seek, but the in-bounds areas only include this floor level of the apartment. Chicken, Conquer, and Cowboy but one of us has to have an imaginary partner so nevermind about that one actually-"

"What the fuck is that?" Wilbur blurts and Tommy grins at his even more puzzled expression.

"Well you see, normally you'd need a lot more people than even four," Tommy starts and Quackity waits patiently at the genuine curiosity in Wilbur's eyes. "But the inner circle moves the opposite way of the outer circle and then somebody who isn't in the circle will call out either chicken, conquer, or cowboy and all of them have to find their partner that's in the other circle and do the corresponding position."

Wilbur scrunches his face. "Position?"

"Oh well, each name has this position that you have to do with your partner," Tommy says, looking around before gesturing to Quackity. "Can you lay on your back?"

"What? Why?" Quackity scoffs at the question. But Tommy only sighs, waving a hand dismissively.

"It's one of the things- just trust me," He adds, unamused that it takes Quackity a hesitant second to do so. "So," Tommy looks over at Wilbur, stepping towards Quackity who is beyond questioning why the hell he did this. Tommy casually lifts a foot and hovers it over Quackity, holding a fist up high. "This is conquer."

"I hate conquer," Quackity mumbles.

"I get it now," Wilbur hums, placing his hands in his lap. Tommy steps away and Quackity sits up, shaking his head.

"Okay then maybe you'll like chicken," Tommy says encouragingly, motioning for Quackity to stand up. He groans, but does so. Tommy turns around, hunching down a bit. "Jump on my back."

"Well, now I don't think I need to because we know what chicken is," Quackity states matter-of-factly, but it's mainly to save himself from jumping on anybody's back like a kid. Tommy only nods, agreeing as he straightens up.

"Plus that name doesn't even make any sense for jumping on someone's back," Wilbur says with a frown, so overly disappointed with the name choice that Tommy crosses his arms.

He huffs. "Well, why don't you do cowboy and see if the name fits then?"

Wilbur opens his mouth to retort before shutting it. He thinks for a moment, going slack with a sigh afterwards. "Fine. Sure."

Tommy nods in satisfaction, leaning against the wall. "So basically, one of you has to get on all fours as the horse and the other has to sit on top and swing around a pretend lasso."

Quackity blinks, Wilbur coughs and they both look at each other for much too long as they think their face might melt off and slide to the ground. Quackity looks away first, laughing loudly to make it sound a bit more real.

"I think we should circle back to hide and seek."

Tommy simply shrugs. "Sounds good to me, I was just teaching you my expertise at the game."

"Yes, great," Quackity says, crossing his arms awkwardly. "So, Wilbur, hide and seek sound good to you?"

They both turn to him and he startles back, making Tommy wonder about what can possibly be happening in that alien invasion world that keeps him so busy. But he forgets about it as soon as Wilbur nods.

"Yeah, it does."

Tommy cheers, clasping his hands together with one of the widest smiles yet. "In that case, it's time for a round of hide-and-seek, boys."

Wilbur looks over at Quackity who doesn't even catch it as he's too busy listening to the blonde kid. Wilbur turns back to Tommy.

"So, you can move around the whole time and go anywhere as long as it's not up a level or down a level, okay?"

Wilbur only nods whereas Quackity happily agrees, seeming eager to start the game and bubbling with excitement that it almost confuses Wilbur.

"Now, rock paper scissors shoot to see who is the seeker," Tommy says, sounding like he's giving a play-by-play of a sports event as he steps back and puts his hands up before either of them can question him. "I brought the idea to the table, I don't have to be seeker if I don't want to."

Wilbur doesn't really care so he's fine with it, facing Quackity and readying himself.

"Best out of three?" Quackity asks and when Wilbur nods, they play.

Wilbur loses, but he isn't bothered by it. He enjoys seeking and he wouldn't consider himself a soar loser either. So he focuses his mind on the game and starts to count.

He almost stops, weighing out the possibility of a zombie getting up here as his memory kicks up. He trips over his numbers, the ghosting feeling of a dead hand covering his face, his eyes and making it dark, so, so dark. But then he opens his eyes, realizing the darkness is from his own eyelids and he continues counting.

He calls out that he's searching now, but he stills when he hears the ruffling of the carpet. He snaps his head to get a look, but there's nothing and when he slumps down he figures out it is himself once again, seeing as he is literally walking on the carpet.

Wilbur takes a deep breath, convincing himself to step out of the door to the apartment because he knows they definitely hid out here. The door creaks, and he walks out into the dimmed and trashed hallway.

The only noise he hears is his own footsteps, slowly creeping closer and closer to an opened door. He shakes his head, reminding himself of the power that comes with being seeker. He switches his head back in the game, a smile pulling at his lips as he slips through the door silently and effortlessly.

He scans the whole room first, seeing a closet partially hidden by a poorly designed corner wall and a couch. He stalks over, keeping his breath steady and quiet.

Wilbur reaches out for the doorknob, pulling it open to be met with a startled shout that makes him jump.

"Fuck- you-" It's Quackity and he's currently clutching onto where his heart should be. Then, he sighs deeply and laughs at Wilbur. "That scared the shit out of me, not gonna lie."

"Your scream made me jump," Wilbur says teasingly with a smile, earning a disproving huff and nudge in return.

"It wasn't a scream, more like a justified shout," Quackity says confidently, looking up at Wilbur and tilting his head.

Wilbur meets his gaze, chest warming up as stalls for a second. Then, he looks away. "Well, I found you, I guess."

Quackity hums, neither move, and suddenly the air around them seems a lot thicker. Wilbur bites his tongue, contemplating something before he looks at the other. "Quackity, what were you going to say?"

Quackity comes to an abrupt stop, face dropping. "What?"

"When Tommy left to go think," Wilbur says even though Quackity already knows what he's talking about. "You were about to say something, what?"

"Oh." Is all that he gets as Quackity tenses up, staring straight ahead, avoiding Wilbur's gaze. The air goes cold and Quackity hates it. But then they hear the sound of multiple objects falling down and Wilbur steps into the closet. That makes Quackity get himself together, walking out to see Tommy rushing to stand up with pots all over the floor.

Despite himself, he turns back to Wilbur and pulls him out of the closet before quickly adding some space between them. "We've gotta find Tommy, he just ran out of here."

"But, Quack-"

"Come on, it's around time we eat anyway," Quackity says evenly, leaving no time for Wilbur to add as he walks away, the guilt trailing right alongside him and weighing him down.

Well, if this isn't a fun time.