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[i-like-words]

Checking In (MTaP)

Dusting off this ancient account to post a bit of the My Time At Portia Arlo/Builder!self ficlets that have been absolutely dumping out of me lately. seriously it's just been like. non stop writing for two weeks straight, this video game man has done unspeakable things to my brain and I love it

some lore and context: Adri was discovered frozen within a massive ruin, thawed out, reawoken after a stupid amount of years and whoops - turns out they have Trauma™ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ luckily our favorite good guy redheaded captain takes it upon himself to keep them out of trouble :)

this particular bit takes place like a week after Adri is introduced as the new Builder - they go MIA, leading Arlo and Merlin to swing by the old workshop

(As an aside, my Builder!self is non-binary. By this point no one within the canon knows this, so characters will refer to them with she/her while the narrative uses they/them, just to assuage any confusion or cw people beforehand of misgendering - it's intentional but temporary)

ANYWAY

cw for swearing and aforementioned misgendering

Arlo stepped through the gate and looked around. The yard had become quite overgrown and the workbench was strewn with stray leaves. It looked as though none of the equipment there had even been touched. There was no sign of Adri. Merlin peered over the scene and began jotting down notes.

Approaching the door to the little shack, Arlo noticed the lights were off.

"Do you suppose Adri is out for the day?" he asked.

"Mm, unlikely," Merlin replied, not looking up from her notebook. "Considering no one has really seen nor heard from her since the fireside chat. Not even the farm girl or her grandmother across the way."

Slowly, Arlo reached out and rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles. "Hello?" he called out.

Silence.

He knocked again.

"Anyone home? It's Arlo, from the Civil Corp. I'm here with Director Merlin from the Research Center. I'm sure you remember us from... before."

More silence.

"Uhh, listen. Mayor Gale asked us to check in on you, since no one has really, er, seen or heard from you in a handful of days. You... um, don't have to open the door, but give us a sign that you're alive...?"

"Though opening the door would be the preferable option," Merlin interjected.

Still no answer. Arlo chewed his lip. He wondered if maybe Adri was simply sleeping... understandable that someone who'd been reawakened after being frozen for a few hundred years would probably want to nap off that whole ordeal. But, still, as the one put in charge--self-appointed, yes, but in charge--of making sure Adri was safely acclimating to life in Portia, Arlo hoped that his first check-in with the new Builder wouldn't end with him breaking down the door.

Before he could contemplate that scenario further, said door suddenly parted, ever so slightly, from the door frame; Adri's pale face was barely visible through the open crack. Dark eyes glowered at Arlo, then at Merlin.

"There. I'm alive. Now go away," they said flatly, and with that, the door was shut once more.

Arlo stood there awkwardly, startled, but relieved he wouldn't, in fact, have to resort to property damage. At least not today. "Oh. Ah, that's... good. Um. I... we were hoping to maybe speak with you, see if there was perhaps anything you might need...?"

"What I need is for you to leave me alone," came the muffled, yet terse reply from behind the closed door. Merlin scribbled into her notebook.

"Hmm. Specimen... displaying... antisocial tendencies..."

"You're not helping," Arlo sighed to Merlin, before addressing the door again. "Uh, can we at least ask you a few questions?"

Silence.

"I promise once we're done we'll both leave you be. You have my word."

Silence.

"Do these so-called 'wellness visits' of yours always go this poorly?" Merlin asked, shouldering Arlo aside. She then knocked on the door. And hard. "Ms. Adri, while I understand you're going through a rather difficult period of adjustment, this an important matter, and neither myself nor Mr. Arnold will be vacating the premises until we can speak with you face-to-face."

Silence.

"You were saying?" asked Arlo pointedly, moving himself back in front of the door.

Merlin folded her arms indignantly. "Hmph..."

"Um... sorry about that, Adri," Arlo continued. "Just ignore what she said. Anyway, we're glad to see that you're, in fact, not dead, and it's, uh... pretty clear that you're not exactly in the mood to be social right now, which is totally fine, so we'll... just come back later."

He was about to turn to leave, when the door reopened and swung out slowly with a long creak. Adri stood there in the turnstile, squinting against the sunlight. Their clothes were disheveled, their shoulder-length hair was a tangled mess, and they had dark bags under their eyes. They looked like they hadn't gotten any sleep in days.

The Builder looked between the researcher and the Captain with intense disdain, then turned away and trudged into the dark, unlit void of the house. Merlin followed, notebook in hand. Tentatively, Arlo stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

There wasn't much to the little ramshackle house--four walls, a roof, and a modest wooden bed topped with moth-eaten sheets sat in the corner, nestled beneath a cracked window. The floor groaned under Arlo's boots, and he noticed some floorboards were missing. What little belongings Adri had had been unceremoniously dumped around; even the Builder's clothes that were given to them as a welcoming gift were laying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed.

Adri slumped onto the edge of the mattress, crossing their arms over their chest, shoulders hunched as if they were trying to fold into themselves.

"Make this quick," they muttered. Their gaze fell into middle distance, and their expression was blank, unfeeling.

Merlin looked up from her notes. "Yes, well," she began, leafing through some pages. "I'll be asking you a series of questions, you answer as honestly and as thoroughly as you can. Don't spare any details, even if you think they aren't important."

"Okay."

"All right... How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." The answer came out before the question had bothered to finish being asked.

Merlin blinked in mild surprise. "Erm, can you... perhaps be a little more specific? Try to refrain from single-word answers."

At this, Adri's head--and eyes--lolled back, and they heaved an irritated sigh. "Oh, my god, fine--I'm 'fucking terrible'. Is that better?"

Merlin did not look amused. She clicked her tongue. "Right. Moving on, then... Have you been experiencing any unusual physical or mental phenomena? Any short-term memory loss, disassociation, or particularly strange dreams or visions?"

"Oh, yeah... I've definitely been having strange visions lately."

Merlin perked up at this. "Have you? Can you describe these visions?"

"Let's see: some blue-haired bozo in dumb glasses shows up and asks me a bunch of stupid ass questions," Adri replied in a flat monotone, their expression unchanging. "I'm having one right now, in fact."

It took a great deal of effort from Arlo to stifle a chuckle. He was always so used to Merlin being the dry and sarcastic one; it was kind of a nice change of pace watching her get a taste of her own medicine. He could see the researcher's jaw jut forward angrily as she wrote something into her notebook before snapping it shut.

"Ms. Adri," she said, the patience dropping from her voice. She removed her goggles and eyed her interviewee as a parent does when lecturing an unruly child. "I am trying to help you. The very least you could do is take this seriously."

"'Help'...?"

In an instant, Adri's cold, indifferent expression changed. Their eyebrows shot up, disappearing into a thick curtain of dark hair. Merlin and Arlo both were taken aback as they suddenly began laughing--a short, bitter bark of a laugh.

"You're trying to 'help' me?" they sneered, rising from the bed and slowly walking forward. Their fists were clenched so hard they were trembling. "Just like you fucking 'helped' me by dragging my half-dead body back into consciousness, in a completely foreign world, separating me from everything I've ever known and loved by HUNDREDS OF YEARS!? THAT kind of 'help'...?!"

Adri was stopped short by a long arm extending in front of them, shielding Merlin, and they glared daggers up at its owner.

"That's enough," Arlo said, his thick brows furrowed. "I don't want to use force on you, but I will if I have to." Beyond his outstretched arm, Merlin was bracing herself behind her notebook and was staring at Adri with fear and anger in her eyes. Adri scowled.

"Tch. Unbelievable... Treated like a damned experiment and I'm expected to be grateful," they mumbled, looking away. Arlo caught a glimpse of a tear sliding down their face, glinting in the dim light of the window. They crawled back onto the bed and curled up into a ball, facing away from their visitors. "Just leave me alone already."

Arlo sighed, running a hand through his tousled red hair. He looked to Merlin. "We should probably go," he said, quietly. Merlin opened her mouth to interject, but, to Arlo's great relief, decided against it.

"...Very well."

They both turned to leave and Arlo opened the door to allow Merlin through. She strode outside, making a beeline for the front gate without another word, no doubt mentally cursing to herself for having to go back to the Research Center strapped for new data. Once she was far enough away, Arlo looked over his shoulder at the small, vulnerable figure laying there, alone, in the dark. Guilt tugged at the inside of his chest.

Adri heard the front door close with a soft click. A brief pause, and then:

"I know she isn't the best at dealing with people, but you mustn't blame Merlin," Arlo said quietly, his gaze fixed on the wood grain of the door. "It wasn't her idea to bring you back. It was mine."

Silence.

"I was the one who found you in the ice," he explained. "And I was the one who insisted that we help you. If you resent me for that, then that's okay. I accept that. You're well within your right to be angry, and... if you're going to be angry at anyone, you can be angry at me."

More silence. Arlo placed his hand on the door's handle. Just as he opened his mouth to apologize for the trouble and make his leave, he was cut off by the nearly inaudible--but unmistakable--sound of sniffling.

"Why did you have to bring me back...?" Adri whimpered, their voice thick and cracking. "Why didn't you just leave me there...?"

Arlo froze. The statement hung heavily like a yoke on his shoulders, pinning him to the spot. He turned and looked over at Adri helplessly as their body shuddered with silent sobs, unsure of what to do. He wanted so badly to comfort them, but he didn't know if he could... or if he even should. Shit. He knew today's visit probably wouldn't go smoothly, but... he had not been prepared for this.

"I... I felt like I had to," he said, crestfallen. Hesitantly, he walked over and sat at the foot of the bed, allowing as much space between himself and Adri as he could manage. "But... I am sorry. Hate me all you want, but please know that I only ever wanted to give you a chance."

"I never asked for your help," Adri mumbled into their pillow. "I never asked for any of this."

"I know." Arlo rubbed at the back of his neck as his gaze fell to the dusty wooden floor.

Another sniffle. "But... I don't hate you."

Arlo looked up again.

"You don't...?" he asked gently, mild surprise in his voice.

"No," Adri responded, heaving a shaky sigh. "I don't even hate that blue-haired bozo, or really, anybody here. I understand why you went out of your way to help me, but I was probably better off being frozen..."

"What makes you say that?"

"Under any other circumstances I'd be happy to have a second chance," Adri said, wiping tears away from their eyes. "I can't even say that my old life was super fucking great anyway, but... it was mine. Knowing that everything that made my life what it was is just... gone, it--" They trailed off, their voice wavering before letting out another sob.

Arlo said nothing, and he sat there, solemnly, as Adri grieved. After a few minutes, they went quiet again.

"Sorry..." they said, sniffling.

"What for...?"

"For making everyone worry, I guess..." Adri rolled over and sat upright. Their eyes were puffy and red, and their cheeks and nose were shiny with tears and mucus. "After Gale introduced me during the meeting thing, everyone was just so... nice. It was a lot. I didn't know how to deal with that, so I've just been holing up in here all week and feeling sorry for myself... I'm sure they all must think I'm an asshole."

"You're not an arsehole; you're going through a lot," said Arlo. "More than anyone in town could possibly know or even imagine. Yes, Gale is a bit of a worrywort, that's just how he is, but I doubt he's expecting you to seamlessly integrate into society overnight."

"Maybe... but he sure seems to believe that I can just pick up a hammer and magically become a Builder..."

Ah, yes. That. Gale had suggested, in the interest of keeping their origins a secret, that Adri be introduced to the townsfolk as a new Builder to avoid any unnecessary panic or conflict. If word of the truth got out, it could spell all sorts of trouble, not just for Adri, but for Portia, perhaps even for all of the Free Cities. 

"I understand that it's probably a lot to ask of you, especially when you're already dealing with so much," Arlo said. "But, unfortunately, it's a necessary evil, to keep you safe. At least for now."

Adri sighed, running a hand through their long curls. "I know, I know... I'm just having a hard time understanding why you're going through the trouble of doing all of... this in the first place." They gestured vaguely around at the house. "What do you get out of protecting me?"

Arlo blinked, looking visibly confused. "What... do you mean...?"

Adri gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously...? C'mon, man. There are obviously people out there who'd stand to benefit a great deal by me being here, whether, like, academically or monetarily or whatever. ...So what's stopping you from just handing me over to some science lab? Or the government? Why even concern yourselves at all with what happens to me? What am I to you?"

They folded their arms over their knees and looked sullenly out the cracked pane of the window. The cynicism in their voice had left Arlo stunned. He stared, his expression wavering between shock and disbelief before it finally settled on pity.

"You're someone who deserves to live," he said, his voice saddened. "Even if you... believe otherwise." 

Adri sighed again, heavily, their gaze still fixed out the window. Silhouetted by the light outside, their face appeared even more tired and weary than before.

"I'm just some random idiot you found in the ice," they mumbled into their knees, hugging them tighter. "You can tell Gale I'll play along with the Builder shit eventually. Right now, I... just want to be left alone."

Arlo nodded; he knew a hint when he heard one. "Okay," he said, patiently, standing up from the bed, and he turned to leave. Boots thudded across the creaky floor, stopping just before Arlo reached the doorway. He looked over his shoulder.

"Would you... be all right with me coming back tomorrow? To check in on you?" he asked cautiously. "If you'd rather I not, then I understand."

Adri quietly considered this for a moment.

"Yeah... okay."

The Captain gave a confirmatory nod. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, gripping the door's handle. After a beat, he added, "and, uh, I'll make sure not to let the blue-haired bozo tag along this time."

At this, the faintest of smirks flashed across Adri's face as they let out an amused chuff, the closest thing to a genuine laugh Arlo had yet heard from them--and he was more than happy with that. He smiled, said goodbye, and left.

He went to sleep that night feeling... strangely optimistic.

[i-like-words]

Prompt: Two-Tone is asked to fill in with his favorite band.

Terry nervously fiddled with his tie as he waited in the backstage dressing room. While most of the band had gone off for sound check or for drinks, he hadn’t moved from the tattered leather couch for almost half an hour. Even Rudy, his best friend, who had invited himself along for “moral support”, was beginning to grow fed up from sitting around and was currently pacing about the small green-walled room.

"Does my tie look straight?" Terry asked, gazing up with large, helpless eyes. Rudy sighed.

"For the last time, dude, yes, you look fine," the cat replied, and his long tail flicked irritably as he dug his second can of beer from the cooler. The checkered skunk sighed, his hands falling into his lap.

"I’m just really nervous," he said. "Can you blame me, though? I mean, I’m playing trombone for my favorite band on the planet."

"Terry, look," Rudy replied as he pulled the tab of the can open, "I know this is a big deal for you—"

"This is a HUGE deal for me…!"

"I get that! Just try to relax, ok??" He gestured to Terry with the open can in his hand; a tiny bit of beer sloshed to the floor and was immediately absorbed by the thin carpet. "YOU are going to do fine. YOU are a hell of a fuckin’ horn player, and anybody who says otherwise is full’a shit."

"Thanks…" Terry began, then blinked in surprise when he found a cold can of beer being thrust under his nose. He took it, and Rudy smirked at him.

"Just don’t quit the band, or Barrett’ll kill us both."

[i-like-words]

here’s that thing I was talking about last night

for some reason all I ever seem to write is hypothetical BrokenAU stuff… but eh. anyway, here’s a bit of a small scene involving Dee and the ‘Bats (sans MCBC of course), a few hours after this happens

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[i-like-words]

"Insomnia"

Just some random Jimmy and Dee interaction. It was meant to be just a thing to exposit on Dee's inability to sleep, but I somehow managed to throw death/mortality feels in there

anyway, have an awkwardly-paced wall of dialogue

  "Dee?" Grey, clouded eyes gazed up to meet metallic blue ones.

"Oh. Hi, Jimmy," Dee replied, focusing her attention on the flat surface of the table in front of her. Jimmy approached, his movements accompanied by a subtle chorus of robotic buzzing.

"It's nearly three in the morning," he said, looking concerned. "What are you doing up this late?" His query was met with a shrug of Dee's thin shoulders.

"I can't sleep," she said simply.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked. "I know Crash always has trouble getting back to sleep whenever he--"

"No, no... it's nothing like that," Dee said. "I just can't seem to bring myself to actually go to sleep at all."

"Oh. Well, you should at least try. You need as much rest as you can get," Jimmy began, but Dee shook her head.

"I wish it were that simple," she said, almost looking embarrassed. "It's not that I can't sleep... I'm completely incapable of sleep."

"I'm... afraid I don't understand what you mean," said Jimmy, the look of concern on his face worsening. Dee sighed.

"I mean that I haven't slept since... since before I, uh, 'died', I guess," she said awkwardly, making a quotation gesture with her hands, then looked away. "I've tried to make myself go to sleep, but it just doesn't work. I don't do anything except lay there, waiting for the sun to come up. After a while, I just gave up trying."

"Oh," said Jimmy, looking ashamed. "I apologize."

"It's not your fault," Dee replied quietly. She leaned onto the table, propping her chin in her hand. "It's just something else I have to deal with."

"Yes, but you shouldn't have to deal with it alone," the robot assured her, sitting next to her at the table.

"You're already helping me enough," Dee said. "I couldn't ask you to burden yourselves further on account of something as stupid as curing my insomnia."

"Perhaps not," replied Jimmy thoughtfully, "but I don't see the harm in just... talking about it." Dee glanced over at him. He shrugged his shoulders with a 'whirr', then let them drop again. "I am only saying."

Dee let out a chuckle, despite herself. "I guess so?"

"Well, you came to us seeking help in getting your life back to normal, and I am determined to see it through to the end," said the robot, with a nod. "It may not seem too assuring now, but I do want to help you in any way I can."

"Oh. Uh, thanks..." Dee replied sheepishly, though she looked genuinely grateful. "It's... actually kind of a relief knowing that someone isn't too weirded out by me to want to help me."

Jimmy quirked his head at her, looking puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just..." Dee began, but trailed off. She chewed on her lip, trying to find her words. "To be perfectly honest, I don't think the rest of the team are very keen on the idea of helping me." The robot looked startled.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, his eyes wide and blinking. Dee shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

"I dunno, I kind of get this vibe that most of them are... well, afraid of me. Because of... because of what I am," she said, not quite looking at Jimmy. "Which, I mean, yeah, I can understand why, but at the same time, it's a little disheartening."

"I wouldn't say they're afraid of you, Dee..."

"Jimmy, you're the only one who's said more than three words to me since this whole thing started," Dee replied, a somewhat pained expression coming over her face. "Eaglebones doesn't trust me and thinks I'm going to start eating everyone's brains, Ricky won't come within ten feet of me without wearing gloves and a surgical mask, Crash always screams and runs away before I even get a chance to talk to him, and the Commander, he--"

Jimmy held up his hands, cutting her off. "It's all right, it's all right. I understand. They just need some time to warm up to you. That's all."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"They're my friends, and I trust them. And you should trust them, too, even if you think they're afraid of you."

Dee sighed. "But how am I supposed to trust them to help me if they don't even treat me like I'm human?"

Jimmy fell silent for a moment, and gazed down at the surface of the table. "You just need to be patient with them," he said. "The things they do or say... they aren't intended to be malicious. They simply just don't understand. Like I said, just give them some time. They will come around eventually."

"Okay..." Dee replied. Another period of silence followed. The only sounds were that of Jimmy's slight mechanical movements as he turned away awkwardly, realizing that she wasn't not going to say anything else on the matter. After a few seconds, he glanced sidelong at her.

"May I ask you something?" Jimmy said suddenly. "I hope that I'm not being too invasive in asking, but it's... something I've been rather curious about." Dee looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

Jimmy swiveled in his seat to face her, and his voice dropped to just above a whisper. "Can you tell me what it's like?" he asked. "Dying. What is it like?"

"Why do you want to know?" Dee responded. Jimmy could tell by the look on her face that she was vaguely offended by the question. He looked down at the table guiltily.

"Well... being a robot, I don't really have a grasp on the concept of human mortality," he said, his voice glum. "It's not something of which I have any real knowledge, only from movies and books and the occasional goldfish."

"Yeah, but," Dee began, looking less offended and more confused, "you're a robot. Why concern yourself with it, if you can't die?"

"Because my friends... they can." Jimmy sunk down in his seat, letting his hands fall into his lap. He sighed. "And they will. One day, they will."

"Oh..." Dee mumbled, unsure of what to say. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Um..."

"I apologize," said Jimmy quickly. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. I was just hoping that you'd know, since--"

"No, I understand," replied Dee, making every effort to avoid looking at the pained expression that now glazed the robot's face. "I'll tell you, if you really want to know." Jimmy looked up at her.

"I do," he said, nodding. The undead girl heaved a heavy sigh.

"My memories are a bit hazy, and I don't recall much about my death," she began. "Specifically, from the time that I was officially dead to when I woke up in Madame Snakebite's trailer; most of it is a complete blur. What I do remember, though, ironically enough, is feeling like I was in a deep sleep."

"Sleep?" Jimmy repeated. Dee nodded.

"Yeah."

"Is that... it?"

"If there is more to it than that, I wish I could remember enough to tell you. I've tried, but it's like it's been completely blocked out of my memory." Dee ran her fingers through her swirly, dark green hair. Jimmy pondered this for a moment.

"Do you think that perhaps Madame Snakebite purposefully altered your memory?" he asked. "It would explain why you can't remember a lot of things, including your real name." Dee shrugged and shook her head.

"I guess so. It's possible," she said warily. Jimmy decided it was best not to press the matter further.

"It's getting late. I'd better recharge for the night," he said, standing up. "Will... you be okay here by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Dee replied, and Jimmy turned to leave. As he was about to reach the door to his lab, she spoke up. "Hey, Jimmy?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yes?"

"...Thank you. You know, for talking with me," Dee said.

"You are welcome. See you in the morning."

[i-like-words]

I finally finished this dumb thing

Regular Show officeAU with some potential Mordecai/Margaret maybe I guess

Margaret Robyn Tanner was always the kind of woman who wore herself well, which, Mordecai figured, was one of the short list of reasons for her great success. She was intimidating, cunning, beautiful, and never took 'no' for an answer. If business was war, Margaret was a walking arsenal. Perhaps the only thing sharper than her attire was her impeccable talent at being one of the most shrewd businesspeople in the city, perhaps in the state.

Maybe that was why Mordecai's palms were always sweating whenever he went to meet with her.

He stood in the elevator, watching the numbers count higher and higher as he felt his stomach sunk lower and lower. He was nervous, as he had every right to be. Even for a guy as straight laced as he was, there's not a person alive who meets with Margaret Tanner and doesn't feel at least a twinge of anxiety.

A bell chimed, signaling his arrival, and he cleared his throat as the bronze elevator doors slid open. Black, well-shined shoes strode against plush carpet as Mordecai approached the receptionist's desk. The young woman glanced up at him from over her spectacles, then smiled sweetly when she recognized him.

"Hello, Mordecai," said Eileen.

"Hey, Eileen. I'm here to meet with Marg--I mean, Ms. Tanner," replied Mordecai, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and producing a card. "I have an appointment. 4:30."

"She'll be just a moment; her 4 o'clock is running a bit long," said the mole, subtly motioning her head to the closed double doors. "But you're more than welcome to have a seat, if you'd like. It should only be a few minutes."

"Sure thing."

More waiting. Great. As if the blue jay wasn't nervous enough.

He sank into one of the two black Herman-Miller armchairs, next to the matching couch, folding his hands in his lap.

"Would you like something to drink?" Eileen asked from the desk. "Coffee? Some water? Maybe something a little stronger?" She winked at him, and Mordecai chuckled reluctantly.

"Uh... no, thank you," he said, then refocused his attention on trying not to look completely terrified. Even after spending four years in business college together, he still had trouble masking his apprehension around Margaret. He wondered why he even still bothered trying to.

The minutes dragged on for an eternity. Five minutes... fifteen minutes... twenty minutes. When Mordecai pushed back the sleeve of his jacket to glance at his watch for what he felt to be the millionth time, the tall, oak double doors suddenly swung open, revealing the slender dark frame of Margaret between them. She wore a black form-fitting skirt that was cut above the knee and a matching blazer set off by a white, high collared shirt. She looked stunning, as usual.

"Mordecai," she said, her strong voice echoing through the waiting room, "Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long." The blue jay stood, adjusting his silk tie, and she strode over to him, shoulders back and arm outstretched.

"Heh, no worries," he stammered, his mouth dry, as Margaret took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Well, I'll make it brief.  I'm sure you've places to be, as do I," she said, turning and walking back toward her office doors. Mordecai quickly followed behind her. As he entered her office, Margaret turned to close the double doors behind them. "Oh, Eileen?"

"Yes, Ms. Tanner?" The mole looked up at her boss, awaiting instruction.

"Please call and let Mr. Angel know that we're still on for dinner at 8:30," she said.

"Right away, Ms. Tanner," replied Eileen, picking up the phone receiver on her desk and beginning to dial as Margaret shut the office doors. The robin turned to face Mordecai, who was standing around awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

"So... who's Mr. Angel?"

"It's not important. Please, have a seat," she said, motioning a hand to the two black armchairs situated in front of the desk. Mordecai sat, trying his best to look comfortable as Margaret strode over to a tall, wooden cabinet at the far end of the room. "What do you drink?"

"Well, I really don--" Mordecai began, glancing over just as the cabinet doors were pulled open, revealing shelves stocked with fine amber liquors and aged wines. She was looking at him expectantly, and he knew that there wasn't going to be leaving that office without having a drink. "Uh, I'll... have whatever you're having."

"Very well," she replied, a vague smirk tracing her beak. She turned away again, and Mordecai let out a mental sigh of relief at the bullet he seemingly dodged. He gazed over the desk and out the window, where the city extended far into the horizon.

"Hell of a view," he said to the tune of ice clinking against glass. "You can practically see the whole city from here."

"I don't really notice," Margaret replied flatly, pouring amber liquid into two matching crystal tumblers.

"Oh... well, I guess, you would get pretty used to it after a while," the blue bird said, clearing his throat, only to find a short glass full of liquor and ice suddenly drop into his field of vision. He straightened himself up and took his drink. "Thanks."

"Whiskey on the rocks," she said, more to herself than to him, taking a sip from her own glass. She leaned against the front edge of her desk, facing Mordecai. "Father spoiled me on it. I guess I'm just as old fashioned as he was."

Mordecai took a drink of whiskey, swallowing it awkwardly. "Your father."

Sharp eyes glanced down at him, and Mordecai could feel himself shrink in his chair.

"So what brings you here, Mordecai?" The calmness in her voice wasn't doing much to help his anxiety. She set her glass down on her desk and looked him over, arms folded.

"Well, ah," he began, shifting about in the chair and putting on his best business voice. "My employer was hoping to, uh, get in contact with you... about, um..."

"Let me guess," she cut him off, looking almost amused. "Maellard thought he could send you down here to sweet-talk me into accepting that... 'acquisition' of his. Cute, but it's not going to work." She stood, circling around the end of her desk and sitting in the large armchair on the other side. Mordecai looked confused.

"A... Acquisition? I'm not following."

"Well, it's no secret that Maellard & Maellard has been trying to get a hold of my father's company for ages."

"Yeah, but... I don't think that he'd send ME to--"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Mordecai," Margaret answered, her eyes suddenly steely. "You've only been working under Maellard's banner for the last two years--I've been a part of Tanner Enterprises for nearly two decades."

Mordecai suddenly became very aware of how much he was starting to sweat.

"My father may be gone, but he worked hard to make this company what it is. I'll be damned if I'm going to let a decrepit old fart like Maellard take all that away."

The blue jay stared into his drink. "I understand," he said. "Your father, he... he was a good man. And a better businessman." He paused, taking a swig of his whisky to soothe his now-parched mouth and hoped it would come across as dramatic. "After his passing, I knew Maellard would stop at nothing to try and acquire the company from you."

"Is that so?" Margaret asked, reaching for her own glass and raising a thin eyebrow in intrigue.

Mordecai pulled a face. "He thinks that you're an easy target, because--"

"Because I'm a woman." She was now dangerously close to smiling.

"Right," Mordecai said, feeling the second-hand shame welling in his chest. "I didn't want to do it, but the old man insisted that I be the one to go... erm, sweet-talk you, as it were. I finally agreed to it just to get his ass to shut up, but I knew it wouldn't work."

"What makes you say that?" Margaret was now smiling into her whiskey glass.

"Maellard doesn't know you like I do."

"Mm, that's true," the robin mused, "but that still doesn't explain why you're here. Why you made an appointment with my secretary. Why you decided to see me, even though you already knew you'd be returning to Maellard empty-handed."

"Heh, well..." Mordecai face flushed slightly. "You know I hate being late for an appointment."

Margaret shook her head, still smiling. "You always were a terrible lair, Mordecai."

"I know..." he said. She had a horrible talent for turning him from hard-nosed businessman to bumbling idiot within seconds. He both hated and loved it. "I just haven't seen you since your father's funeral six months ago."

"Seven."

"What?" Mordecai looked up. She was no longer smiling.

"It was seven months ago. Seven months from... last week, I believe."

"Oh," he said solemnly, his gaze dropping back to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," said Margaret. "But you're right--it has been too long since we last saw one another." She polished off her drink and set it back down onto her desk. "In fact, what are your plans tomorrow evening? We could get together and catch up over dinner."

Mordecai felt his breath catch. "Uh, y-yeah, sure. Tomorrow evening sounds great. Definitely."

"Good."  In one swift motion she presented a touchscreen tablet computer and, after a few taps and swipes of her thin feathered fingers, she put it away again. "I'll meet you at the Golden Idol Bistro at 8. I hope you like Asian fusion."

"Of course," Mordecai replied, as he fumbled with his own smart-phone, realizing that he had no idea what the phrase "Asian fusion" even meant. "Eight it is, then."

"I look forward to it," she said, rising from the table. She extended a hand again. "While I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our meeting short, it was good to see you again, Mordecai." He stood as well, meeting her hand with his.

"You too... Margaret," he replied, giving her hand a polite shake. He smoothed his tie and jacket with his free hand. "Thank you for the drink."

She smiled. "Thank you for the company. I'll see you tomorrow night." He smiled back then turned to leave. She watched him, arms folded, as he opened the door, and then spoke up again. "Oh, and Mordecai?"

He looked at her.

"Tell that old fucker Maellard that if he expects me to hand over my father's company, he's got another thing coming." Mordecai laughed, somewhat uncomfortably.

"I'll tell him. Maybe in not so many words, but I'll tell him." He waved, then exited, closing the door behind him.

Margaret exhaled. "Another thing coming, indeed."

She circled around to the other side of her desk, pressing a button on the small, black intercom. She paused, looking down and pulling a face. "Miss Eileen?"

"Yes, Miss Tanner?" replied the secretary through the speaker.

"I need to order a new Persian rug. I seem to have made a mess of my 4 o'clock," Margaret said, gazing at the bloodied and partially mutilated body of an unknown businessman at her feet. His eyes were wide and mouth agape, frozen in an expression of terror. She sighed. "Damn shame. I really liked this rug..."

[i-like-words]

(I’ve decided on the name “Davis”, but maybe “Roy” can be his middle name? :U)

Stoney sat up, half-awake, from her couch to the sound of a knock at the door. She scowled. Nobody ever came up to visit her at her apartment, unless it was…

“I know you’re home,” a voice called—Davis’s voice. Another series of knocks followed. Stoney scowl became a grimace, and she slowly unfurled from the couch and slunk to the door.

A click and a creak later, Davis saw a familiar bright green eye glare at him through the opening. “What,” said the owner of the eye, “do you want?”

“Were you asleep?” Davis asked, a disdainful yet unsurprised look falling over his face.

“What do you want, Davis?” Stoney repeated, hiding herself behind the open door in an attempt to disguise the fact that she only wearing a tank top an underwear. Not exactly something she wanted her brother to see.

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d… drop by for a visit. See how you were doing.” His voice was condescendingly flat.

“Well, isn’t that nice,” Stoney replied, her voice just as flat. She glowered at him. “I’m fine. Now leave me alone.”

“You’re not even going to let me in?” Davis crossed his arms.

“Why should I?” Stoney growled. “You and I both know the only reason you’re here to ‘check in’ on me is so you can report back to mom how much of a fuck-up I am; how I’m living such a horrendously depraved life that doesn’t meet up to everybody’s bullshit standards.”

Davis’s expression didn’t change. He scoffed. “Typical. Always playing the victim and treating me like I’m some kind of enemy. Maybe if you actually did something worthwhile with your life, I wouldn’t have to keep checking up on you and bailing you out.”

“Yeah, well,” Stoney replied, eyes narrowed to slits, “I never asked you to do either of those things.”

[i-like-words]

Mars 21

"Silence"

The library was empty, save for the handful of students hunched over their text books. Mars made for one of the vacant tables and sat, placing her messenger bag onto the flat surface in front of her. She dug out her notebook and pen. This was the only place where she could get her writing done in peace and without interruption.

[i-like-words]

Breathlessness

The first thing Dee noticed when she awoke was that she couldn't breathe. Not that she was physically inhibited in any way, but... it was if her lungs had simply stopped trying.

[i-like-words]

So I started writing a short thing the other night while I was waiting for my panic attack to settle down

Mars brings Stoney to Roach’s house to buy some smoke and meet Roach’s dad, etc

I may finish it, I may not… I guess it depends on how I feel about it later

only two people are gonna read this anyway lol

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