so don't you let her get under your skin

[samson]

Who: Brock and Molotov
What: Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
When: Weds., 25 April, early evening
Where: Room 509
Rating: Probably PG-13, will edit if necessary :T

[Brock had been spending the majority of his time lately working on his cabin, or rather working on a garage to attach to his cabin so he could put his car somewhere to work on that. It was pretty convoluted, but the point was, he was getting married in less than a week and he should probably spend time with his fiancée instead of dicking around in the woods all the time.

So, it's just around dinnertime when he rolls in through the door. Better late than never, right? That's sort of Brock's philosophy about their whole relationship, which explains things.

Anyway, he shuts the door behind him and calls out for her.]

Hey, kitten? You home?

Comments

[samson]

[He starts in on the salad.] What do you even do there? Are you getting work?

[molotov]

I have things to do there. [She's defensive. LET IT GO, SAMSON]

[samson]

[He's not being rude about it or anything, he's just asking! He's curious about what his fiancée gets up to during the day, alright.]

I mean, I just don't think all that many people need assassinations or whatever around here. It's actually pretty boring; even the evil guys just sit around and behave.

[molotov]

I have done some work. Usually for the townspeople.

[samson]

[A small smile.] What, like ... finding lost puppies or something?

[molotov]

Usually they need something stolen, or they want me to catch their spouse cheating.

[samson]

Those people cheat? I kind of figured it was a weird, like ... Stepford town.

[molotov]

Nyet, they have their own little lives. They just have problems with us, they do not trust us. I tend to be their last resort.

[samson]

Huh. Weird.

[He just shrugs and eats. He'd rather have some bread, but this salad isn't bad.]

[molotov]

[WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE BREAD, FATASS.]

So what did you do today?

[samson]

[NO, STFU, BREAD IS DELICIOUS.]

Cabin, mostly. I need to build a garage for my car.

[molotov]

Will you even be able to move the car into a garage?

[Because it was kind of deteriorating...]

[samson]

Well, I'm not just gonna leave it in the woods.

[molotov]

I am just asking!

[samson]

And I'm just saying, I don't want the Charger out in the woods anymore. [FROWN.]

[molotov]

[Molotov honestly can't see how it matters. She's pretty sure that, even if he manages to fix the Charger, it'll be more new parts than old.]

So how far have you gotten?

[samson]

[It's the principle of the matter! Plus, it gives him something to do. This is his bear reserve, Molotov.]

The concrete's set. I'm working on the walls now.

[molotov]

How long do you think it will take?

[samson]

[He rolls his eyes up, pausing as he thinks.]

Uhh. Maybe a couple weeks.

[... another pause.] Well, plus however long we're, you know, distracted.

[molotov]

Weeks to put up a garage, really?

[samson]

Well -- I'm making, like, a drawbridge too.

[molotov]

Why?

[samson]

For the moat. [duh.]

[molotov]

What.

[samson]

[He pauses, spooling some pasta on his fork.]

Okay, I should probably say "if I make a moat."