how does the grass grow? blood blood blood

[samson]

Who: Brock, Molotov, and YOU!
What: Shopping in the city, it's extremely exciting
When: Friday, 30/March (forward dated)
Where: City Royale
Rating: PG probably

Brock didn't really want to get Molotov's hopes up for the return of their impossible imaginary fake magic baby. Because really, there was no telling that she'd be back this year -- there were so many people who left in the past few months, real people who were neither fake nor imaginary (some of them were impossible and magic, though), so he didn't really know if the castle was cutting back, or what.

But it's hard to say no to her when she has that look on her face.

So, they are presently walking all over the City Royale with their arms (read: Brock's arms) full of shopping. There's some regular shopping too, little trinkets for their castle room or the cabin, but a vast majority of it is toys (fake guns and swords) and clothes (small, frilly dresses).

Brock can barely see over the enormous stack of purchases in his arms, but it's fine. It's not like Molotov would intentionally lead him into a tree or a ditch or a person or anything. Probably. Maybe.

Comments

[molotov]

Molotov, contrary to what Brock apparently thinks, is not an idiot. She is aware that the castle likes to fuck with them and is very capable of not sending her baby back to her. But she's a mercenary, and she likes to be prepared, so she has to be ready for the possibility that her Andropov will come back. And those preparations include a lot of little shoes and stuffed animals.

She might, actually, be leading him into the occasional broken cobblestone to watch him trip, but she's mostly just wandering from shop to shop, drinking a coffee that she picked up when they first set out. At the moment, she's staring at a porcelain doll in a window, wondering if there's a little grenade that could be made to fit in its hand.

[samson]

He doesn't think she's an idiot, but she can be awful stubborn! It's not an attractive quality, Molotov.

No, that's a lie, it's super attractive. But Brock is dumb, so.

Brock gets a fair distance away from Molotov before he realizes she ... isn't with him anymore. Sighing irritably, he turns around (with some difficulty; he doesn't really want to topple everything in his arms...) to look after where she went. He has to crane his neck around the packages.

"Stop stopping. I can't see you."

[molotov]

It's not stubbornness, it's optimism and preparedness! Try maybe not being a dick, Samson, how about that?

"Get some glasses, then," she easily shoots back at him, then abruptly disappears inside the narrow doorway of the shop she'd been peering into. There's no waiting to see if Brock is even capable of following her inside -- she simply takes the doll, along with a few other toys, and heads to the counter.

[samson]

He can't! He can't not be a dick, it is his natural state. Do you want Brock to destabilize and turn into a pile of goo or something? No, you don't.

Brock stares after the doorway Molotov disappeared in for a second, gaping furiously. "What... you..."

He can't fit through the door, actually. So he just stands there, contemplating throwing something at her when she comes out. This might be an overreaction.

[molotov]

She reemerges after a few minutes, and deposits her newest package on top of Brock's pile before heading off again, lighting up a cigarette.

"Should we break for lunch?" she asks, heels clicking on the cobblestones.

[samson]

This is Brock's life right now. He doesn't even know how this happened. How did this happen? How.

What did he do to deserve this.

"Break -- you didn't even do anything. What could you be breaking for?" he says irritably, pausing to make sure he has a decent grip on the pile before stalking after her. Well, stalking as best he can, anyway: he still really can't see around the packages.

[molotov]

He married her! That's what he did to deserve it. And excuse you, but Molotov thinks he's getting a lot in exchange, aka hot Russian poontang every day.

"I have done a great deal of work," she sniffed, pointing a finger at him. "Thinking and making decisions is much harder than being a packmule."

[samson]

But she's getting his dick, too! So that's not exactly an even exchange, madam. She needs to pay up.

Brock shifts the packages (and manages to do it angrily). "You're not thinking and making decisions, you're just buying everything and shoving it at me. That's not hard."

[molotov]

Who said she even wants his dick? That is an unwanted piece of the trade, he actually owes her for accepting it!

"I am thinking," she shot back, "of our baby girl, but maybe you do not care about her enough to use your brain for her. So shut your fat mouth and carry the bags like a good dog."

[samson]

Of course she wants his dick! It's a perfectly fine dick, good for all occasions. Don't knock the dick!!

Brock simply mutters in response, "I'll show you a good dog," like that makes sense. I guess it's some kind of sexual innuendo? He should have said something about doggystyle, but the moment has passed. Oh well.

"Where are we going to eat?'

[molotov]

It gets knocked all night, and Brock is grateful for it!

Molotov rolls her eye, and turns a sharp corner, possibly hoping to lose him. "Wherever I want," she says simply, "and dogs do not eat when they are not nice. So you should not care."

[samson]

Wow, don't be crude! Brock and I both prefer the term boning.

Brock considers throwing one of these packages right at her head, but then realizes that any number of them are filled with little knives. And that's just not safe (for him). Plus then he might drop everything.

"Don't be a bitch. Can we go home first? Or at least up to the cabin?"

[molotov]

And also they are presents for your magical daughter, Samson, don't be an asshole! Jerk.

"Nyet," she answers, heading for a little sandwich shop and reading their posted menu. "Why would we go all the way there when we are already here?"

[samson]

It's not like she doesn't have enough presents to go around! She wouldn't even know; she's not here yet. Duh!

"Uh," Brock says, staring at her the best he can around this tower of packages in his arms, "'cause where am I gonna put all this stuff?"

[molotov]

Molotov would tell her, she would say, "Daddy threw your gifts because he doesn't love you!"

She shrugs and heads inside to order a sandwich. How about that, Samson?

[samson]

No, she wouldn't! That is terrible. Just plain terrible! Did Molotov want to be a single parent or something? Because if the baby hated him, he would not be able to help her when she cried or threw tantrums or asked annoying questions. Yeah. Think about that, Cocktease.

Brock again does a thing where he just stands outside the door and stares furiously after her. What. The. Fuck.

"Get back out here!!"

[molotov]

But it's true! Brock didn't think of Andropov as real or theirs, Molotov knew it, because he didn't think anything of throwing these gifts that Molotov was buying! And he never seemed to care when she left, Molotov just really didn't think Brock cared all that much.

She does not respond to that, as she is waiting for her sandwich to be made. Sorry, Samson! Maybe don't be an ass next time.

[samson]

Lies! Filthy, dirty lies. Brock just is not a materialistic kind of guy (unless his records and car are involved, natch), and he cared when Andy left -- it's just that Molotov absolutely flipped her shit whenever that happened, so he had to be the strong one. Plus he's kind of desensitized to it because of the Venture twins, but mostly it's staying strong for Molotov.

Brock just stands outside the door for a minute, fuming, then decides screw this!!! And he starts to stomp off toward the castle. The cabin is closer, so he'll probably dump everything in there, though there's no way he'll get all the way there by the time Molotov comes out with her sandwich.

Unless she's going to eat it inside.

In which case that would also be rude as fuck.

[molotov]

After a few more minutes, Molotov comes out with two sandwiches, though his absence gives her pause. She peers around for a second, then rolls her eye and goes to sit on a nearby bench. Either he'll come back, pouting, or she'll get to eat two sandwiches. Exciting!

[samson]

He's just down the road -- he's not very far. It takes him just shy of twenty minutes to go to the cabin, dump all the stuff there, and come back (walking with a massive stack of items in your arms takes some concentration and careful steps), and he's visibly annoyed by the time he makes it back to the sandwich shop.

Did she leave him a sandwich? He would like a sandwich right now.

[molotov]

She did not leave him a sandwich, unless he wants the last third of one. Because that's what's left.

Molotov looks at him silently, in a terribly judgmental way, and then ignores him. He's been awful all day, she doesn't know why.

[samson]

Brock stands there for a second, staring at her. He considers going inside for his own sandwich, but that's really stupid -- she ate his, she should buy him a new one. Not like he paid for this one or anything.

Anyway, if anyone is the awful one around here, it's her! He doesn't know why she's such a bitch today, it's impossible.

"What?"

[molotov]

"You what!" she snaps, throwing this final sandwich bit at him. "You are the one being a bastard for no reason all day."

[samson]

He easily catches the sandwich, and just kind of frowns at it before looking up and resuming frowning at her. "What? You've been on my case all damn day!"

[molotov]

"I have not," she snorts, sneering. "You have been so obnoxious, all I have done is shop for our daughter."

[samson]

"And made me carry all this shit like a pack mule!"

Which he isn't. He is not a pack mule.

[molotov]

"Nice to see how much our child means to you!" she snaps, heavily implying that he doesn't love Andropov enough to carry her things.

[samson]

"Hey! Then you carry it and I'll go pick out stuff!"

What the hell is her problem?! Why is she so rude today, it's impossible.

[molotov]

He is the one being rude! Only Brock is the impossible one.

"Why don't you just leave alone?" she hisses, irritated. "I will do everything for her, because I am her mother."

[samson]

"Well, I'm her dad. Go to hell," he growls. "Go to hell and shut up."

He points at the sandwich shop. "I'm going to go get something to eat, and then we're going to go shopping like happy fucking parents, and we're both going to share the carrying and the picking stuff out. And that's it. No discussion, Molotov."

[molotov]

Molotov just glares, and waits for him to enter the sandwich shop. Hopefully he is aware that she absolutely plans to just stalk off once he's in there.

[samson]

Brock glares right back! "What? You have some kind of issue with actually being partners?"

[molotov]

"I have an issue with your face," she maturely responds, then decides not to wait before stomping away.

[samson]

Wow, rude?? But whatever! Molotov is a jerk and obviously just PMSing or something (never mind that she didn't get her period here). Brock rolls his eyes and goes to get a sandwich. Victor...y...?????? Who even knows.