Sparkling diamonds and shiny new concrete flooring. This place was glowing. It was glowing in every eye of every traveler or citizen to see the building. But not the president.

Quackity, the president of the blooming country called Las Nevadas, did not like the flashy and eye-catching casino. The casino- or his country in general- randomly brought unpleasant reminders of what he didn't have. What he couldn't have.

A great relationship with his ex-fiances.

They left him, forgot about him, and made their own, mushroom-filled country without him. While he worked hard, day after day, on Las Nevadas. Just for them. This country was supposed to be for them. But they clearly didn't want the country- they didn't want him.

So the only time he ever walked into the casino (when not going through the back doors to reach his smaller office- of course he had more than one) was for a good distraction- something the casino was extremely great at.

Drown out the negative feelings and loneliness with some cheap drinks and light music as he watched people recklessly gamble with the poker chips he designed. Or walk across the long halls lined with gold borders that he chose out. And walk past the large picture hanging in the same hallway, the one that he ignored but also refused to take down (they were of simpler times with Karl and Sapnap).

Quackity let out a long sigh, setting his drink down as the ice clinked against the glass. A day of working and sorrowing over, now a night of drinking and longing.

When he heard shuffling to the side of him, and when somebody took a seat right next to him, Quackity didn't have to turn to see who it was. There was only one person that would take a seat next to him on a day like this, in the same casino at the same time when he clearly didn't look happy.

He kept quiet, hoping the other would do the same in return as they ordered their drink. But it was no hope, because once the bartender turned away Quackity was met with the familiar voice of Wilbur Soot.

"Big Q, funny seeing you here," he greeted him with a calm tone, and Quackity glanced over to Wilbur who was simply staring ahead, not even looking at Quackity. "But then again, this is your casino, right?"

"Yes. It is," Quackity confirmed with a mumble, turning back and facing forward himself before he found it too awkward and started looking down at his cup, "I run the casino and all that."

Wilbur hummed in response, thanking the bartender for his drink and swirling it around a bit.

"What are you doing here?" Quackity asked, no real sharpness in his voice, just curiosity. Wilbur stalled for a bit, staring into his drink before finally taking a sip.

"Bored. Unentertained. All that good stuff."

"So you came to my casino?"

"I came to the only casino this server has."

Quackity turned back to his own drink, ending up facing Wilbur in some part of their conversation. It fell silent, and Quackity didn't know if he liked it or not. And he didn't care to decide on which one that was, simply taking another drink out of his cup.

"What about you?"

Quackity almost missed the question, he even almost forgot Wilbur was here. So he scoffed in return, "That's not for you to know."

"What? I told you why I was here," Wilbur argued, raising his hands up before placing his elbows on the counter. Quackity turned around, now pointing at the man.

"Yea well all of your reasons were stupid and boring. Meaningless and all that." he shrugged at the end, dropping his hands into his lap before lifting it onto the counter.

"Oh well, I'm sorry that everything in your life is so complicated and sad, and telling me would make it more sad and pathetic since we hate each other," Wilbur mocked, waving his hands around and talking in an exaggerated voice that Quackity scrunched his face at. He was also scrunching his face at the way Wilbur's hand motioned quotation marks around 'hate each other'.

"Just saying Wilbur, I don't know why you put quotation marks on that last bit because I do, as a matter of fact, hate you," Quackity said, tapping on the table once he finished before taking another drink. Not caring for the prolonged silence that followed.

"But you don't actually," Wilbur finally said, not looking up from the countertop as Quackity faced him with a laugh.

"But I do. You're insufferable and annoying. You've done fucked up shit and we don't get along."

"Well, I could say the same about you then," Wilbur started, sounding weirdly offended as he glared at Quackity, pointing at him. "But at least I'd at least try and get along."

"Yeah right-"

"I didn't say anything to piss you off when I sat down here, did I?" Wilbur cut Quackity's doubt-filled sentence off, an annoyed expression following as he listened to Wilbur. "I just sat down and talked, politely. Which you seem to struggle to do every fucking time."

Quackity pinched his brows, laughing sarcastically. "I'm sorry- well no, I'm not. But where the hell is this coming from?"

Wilbur grimaced. "I'm just speaking the truth, Quackity. What did I say to you that was so rude before you started being an absolute prick?"

Quackity huffed, definitely not secretly trying to recall the whole conversation in his mind and failing due to both his annoyance for Wilbur, but also the drink in his hand. He took another sip and Wilbur smiled, but it was fake and full of disappointment that he expected from Quackity.

"Exactly," Wilbur said, placing a hand down on the counter with a loud thump. "You wouldn't try shit."

"Well, you can see why," Quackity grumbled, settling his elbows on the bar and leaning on them. "You're no saint, Soot."

"Oh, I know. Everyone does," Wilbur responded calmly, but then his face twisted with distaste. "I just don't go covering it up with quartz and diamonds."

Quackity's hands balled up into a fist, he kept his eyes trained on the glass in front of him in an attempt to restrain himself. "I actually work hard for the shit I earn. You lie to people and hurt them."

"So you've never lied to someone?" Wilbur asked, pushing the already sensitive button of Quackity's nerves, standing up and stepping right next to Quackity as he mocked curiosity. "You've never done a wrong huh?"

Quackity craned his neck to look up at him, a nasty scowl that went well with his scar. He hated this incompetent asshole so much that it made his blood boil with opposition and his jaw clench with anger.

"Shut up," Quackity said through gritted teeth.

But of course, Wilbur wasn't a reasonable citizen of Las Nevadas who wouldn't fuck with Quackity, especially when he looked like that. In fact, he made it seem like it was his goal to do just that as he tilted his head in a taunting manner. "You've never hurt anyone to get what you want, Quackity?"

Quackity forced himself to remain seated and not punch the man back into limbo solely for the sake of keeping his casino a place with a good reputation and to keep a crowd from forming. He glared right at Wilbur. "And what if I have?"

Quackity waited, expecting Wilbur to grin maliciously. But it drew out to a good three seconds before Wilbur leaned down, face to face with Quackity with a serious look.

"Fucking hypocritical failure," He practically spat out, straightening his posture right after and flicking his trend coat as he went to sit back down and take a drink like he didn't just ask for Quackity to kick him right in the ribs.

Quackity clenched his fists together, now his turn to get out of his seat as he stomped two times before he was standing next to him. He yanked the collar of his trench coat towards him, catching Wilbur off guard for only a second that somebody could miss it. Wilbur's chin bumped into Quackity's shoulder, his torso twisting awkwardly as Quackity pulled on his stupid filthy coat.

"Quackity, don't go proving me right-"

Quackity curled the coat up in his hand, looking at Wilbur with the most pissed-off look yet, full of hatred and about anything else that meant the same thing. It was hostile, Wilbur couldn't even return it with as much honest disdain as Quackity almost near snarled in his face.

"Don't be calling me a failure, Soot, not when you're the one who went from a president to a homeless sack of flesh and dirt. Where is everyone you once had? You failed them and now they're not here. You're the only failure out of us two, be lucky I'm still here to talk some sense into that fucked up mind of yours."

Quackity huffed, stepping back but his gaze never faltered as Wilbur instantly straightened his posture and his coat. "You're in my country, don't go forgetting that."

"Whoever said I forgot," Wilbur tried to say, but his voice fell short of its usual bark and bite, making Quackity's eyes light up in amusement. Was he winning this time? The stupid game of pushing and biting and yelling that they always played. The one where they still had yet to decide an overall winner. But hey, for this round, Quackity was fucking winning.

"Oh no, it's the way you're acting," Quackity taunted, clasping his hands together with a crooked grin. Then, when Wilbur didn't respond in the period of three seconds Quackity wanted him to, he set his hand down on the counter, tapping it. "You didn't have to say anything, nobody did. It's the way you walk into my country with your head held high like you aren't a dead man."

Then Wilbur's eyes flickered, Quackity almost missed it, he even missed the way Wilbur's hands clenched and unclenched because he was too busy studying his face, which was now glaring right back at Quackity. Wilbur didn't waver once, "Because I'm not dead."

And Quackity… He frowned like Wilbur was a poor kid with too much hope and innocence before standing up properly and crossing his arms. "Okay, sure. But either way, you have got to leave my casino now."

The stubbornness in Wilbur washed over him once more, staring right at Quackity with a fixated look as he took a drink of his cup. And when Quackity was about to huff or roll his eyes, Wilbur slammed the cup down and stood up, making Quackity have to take a step back.

"I think I'll take my leave, casinos aren't really my thing anyways," Wilbur said pointedly, pushing past Quackity by the shorter man's shoulder, resulting in him tripping right back into his seat. He huffed it off as Wilbur walked away, situating himself on his seat and taking another drink.

By Prime, that man was one of the worst. Quackity just prayed there wouldn't have to be a part two to any of that.

And it was two weeks later, two weeks where Wilbur hadn't even shown up in Las Nevadas let alone near Quackity once. He was thriving in the new absence of the revived man, busying himself all day with actual productive things because he knew there wouldn't be anyone to interrupt it.

No, Quackity never thought about why Wilbur wasn't popping up yet. He just cared that it continued like this.

No Wilbur in sight, more work done. That was the magic of Wilbur's sudden "disappearance". Quackity hummed to himself as he strolled down the street, taking his time to get to his office because he knew some guy in a trench coat wouldn't be there to stop him halfway to ask him the most ridiculous questions meant to piss him off.

The sun was nearly gone, the sky turning into a darker blue by the second as Quackity's shoes clicked against the sidewalk and echoed into the calmer streets of Las Nevadas at night. Of course, Las Nevadas was always busy. But at night most people were on the other side of the city, getting drunk in the casino and gambling all their money away. Or they were in the shopping center, but that was still on the other side and over here it was an array of apartments, alleys, and small businesses that would always close before eight pm. So really, only a car or two would pass by and one random citizen walking somewhere.

Quackity enjoyed the walk, the way the lights dimmed up the streets and sidewalks only a tiny bit, and the nice chill breeze that was hardly there but enough to be appreciated.

But of course, the moment was ruined as he heard shoes scrap against sidewalk and his eyes darted to where he thought it had come from purely out of habit. All he saw was a dark figure speed walking down a corner and out of Quackity's sight. So he shrugged, picking his pace back up.

When he was at the corner he couldn't help the curiosity take over him as he peeked in the start of a maze of alleyways, he saw the figure. It was tall and standing in the corner like it was pretending to be more so an object cast aside than a person in an alleyway.

Quackity was about to walk away but he stepped on a piece of trash which alerted the person who apparently hadn't noticed him. Quackity squinted as their shadowed head looked all around and Quackity almost laughed until the moonlight lit up part of them as they turned to the right.

Curly hair with a white streak. Quackity frowned, only being proved correct as a long coat could finally be made out. He huffed, walking over to them as the figure that was currently trying to sneak away.

"Wilbur," Quackity called after him, taking a right just as he did with a tone that was supposed to let people know they didn't have a choice. But this was Wilbur and he just kept speed walking away.

"Wilbur, stop," Quackity raised his voice a bit, holding back a frustrated groan as the taller took a left in an attempt to lose him. "Wilbur fucking Soot-"

But Wilbur started speeding up and Quackity almost didn't register the fact that he was running now. What the heck? Quackity only shook his head, following after him.

And soon enough Wilbur had effectively found himself in a dead end, the man hunching over in the corner of the wall behind a bunch of random broken boxes as Quackity entered.

Quackity paused, placing his hands on his knees as he took some deep breaths. Not even five seconds passed by before Quackity straightened his posture and walked over the gross amount of dirty papers and bags on the floor to stand right in front of Wilbur.

He took a deep breath involuntarily, ignoring the way Wilbur was heaving as he pulled out a lantern to see the hunched over man a bit better. And sure enough, Wilbur was pressed up against the wall like it was swallowing him, curled in on himself in the corner of the alleyway as he heaved and heaved in an attempt to get some air.

"Prime, Soot, is cardio really that bad for you?" Quackity laughed, holding the lantern up and scoffing at the way Wilbur was clutching onto his stomach. "Huh, you shouldn't really run when somebody's chasing you if you can't actually, well, run."

Wilbur coughed and it must have been painful the way his lower back sunk deeper into the wall as he breathlessly responded, "I- didn't have to run… in limbo."

"Right," Quackity dismissively said before reaching over at straightening Wilbur out himself by grabbing onto his coat. "So, Wilbur, what are you doing here?"

Wilbur didn't even fight to get Quackity's hands away but Quackity obviously didn't complain about it, his lips pursed downwards. "Answer, please."

So Wilbur did answer, looking down at Quackity with a frown. "I was avoiding you."

"By sneaking around the streets I'm on?" Quackity questioned and Wilbur rolled his eyes in return.

"Didn't know you were here," He said sharply before his voice lowered to a mumble. "Didn't know you went on this side at night."

And Quackity heard it, shaking his head. "My office is this way, of course I come down here."

"Not at night."

"Why are you in Las Nevadas?" Quackity almost cut him off, letting go of his coat slowly just in case he was gonna be the type to push him and dash away. But Wilbur didn't, eyeing the side before shrugging.

"I was taking a nice stroll-"

"A stroll?"

Wilbur's jaw tensed, holding back something on his mind about the way Quackity interrupted him. "Yes, a stroll. But then I saw you so I walked away. But of course, you fucking went after me."

"Well, I told you you're-"

"Not allowed in Las Nevadas, yeah yeah," Wilbur said sarcastically, fixing up the collar of his trench coat. Quackity, however, didn't seem very amused.

"So why are you in Las Nevadas after I've told you countless times not to come here?" Quackity questioned, brows furrowing as he waited for another excuse to come rolling off the other's tongue. But Wilbur only looked upward, white and brown curls of hair leaving shadows on his face due to the lantern in between them.

"Las Nevadas looks good during the night."

It was silent for a moment… and then another as Quackity blinked, searching all over Wilbur's face. Even eyeing the man up and down, squinting his eyes at his figure before he just huffed in disbelief. "Okay, funny, Wilbur. But you need to leave. I actually enjoyed not having you around."

Wilbur looked like he was about to say something in disagreement before his eyes fell to the lantern, focusing there like a moth and a porch light. Then, after a lack of any response, Wilbur bit his cheek and his shoulders loosened up a bit. "Fine, but you have to show me the way. I now have no clue where I am."

Quackity almost laughed at that, but he kept himself collected instead, the night air flowing right up his back and making him shiver. "Okay, hurry up then."

So Wilbur waited, looking down at the lantern and back up at Quackity before Quackity blinked and realized what he was waiting for and, stepped back. Quackity held the lantern forward, eyeing Wilbur attentively. "Let's go now."

And so Wilbur followed Quackity out of the maze of alleyways, keeping up but never allowed to go too far ahead without Quackity snapping at him to get back under the assumption he was about to run away into the city and probably do something bad. Same for if he was too behind, Quackity turning around and gesturing for him to speed the fuck up.

Eventually, Wilbur's boots were tapping against the road leaning out of Las Nevadas, the bright sign just meters ahead. Wilbur adjusted his coat due to the night chill, glancing over at Quackity. "I think I know my way from here, Quackity."

But Quackity shook his head, ever so professional with the way his hands were crossed over each other. "No, I'd like to make sure you fully leave the borders of my country."

Wilbur frowned at that, out of annoyance before turning his attention back to the black asphalt concrete that slowly sunk into the white sand all around them. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"No, of course not."

Wilbur pressed his lips into a thin line, stepping dramatically over a crack in the road and twirling back over to Quackity. "That growing crack doesn't look too neat, hm?"

"I don't care what you think," Quackity chastised with a glare that only lasted so long before both of their shoes sank slightly with every step and, the sand was left with their footprints. Wilbur slowed as they reached the sign, stopping two feet away from the thick pole that held it up as he dug his foot in the sand.

"You may leave now, Wilbur," Quackity ordered, eyeing Wilbur's back as the man hung his head and kicked a bit of sand. A beat of silence passed by before Wilbur turned his head around.

"Fine then, goodnight Quackity," Wilbur said calmly and Quackity only nodded in response. So Wilbur whipped around and headed downwards until sand turned to grass and dirt.

Quackity sighed, noting to fill in the crack in his road someday and walking back into Las Nevadas.