Friendship is Magic

Mr.Face:

...I'd kind of wanted to have been the bearer of bad news in this instance. But Cricket took that role, and it seemed to have done the trick. There was a moment of laden silence, in which I wondered if I was suppoused to be in any perturbed that Cricket was apparently angry at me before she allowed the door to open.

Then of course, there was a continuation of the pregnant silence, as presumably she stared at me. And of course, I was in even more of a state than usual, considering my sleevelessness and rather singed outer appearance. Lovely.

"So what am I suppoused to do then? Huh? If he's gone, what happens to me? I told him to get a different expletiving job! Internet, I hate this. This is ridiculous." She finally ranted at someone, who I suppouse that logical deduction would imply was Cricket. Neither of us had really said anything that would insinuate that we were in any way going to support such statements, or better, that we cared what she had to say on the matter. She was going to let us in so that we could leave. Simple as that. I didn't understand what her feelings on the matter had to do with anything, and indeed they were at this point in time keeping us standing outside instead of doing something productive, like going into this hole in the wall to find the chatbox door that was apparently here.

"I would be extremely wary of what government supplied jobs you were criticising if I were you. Of course, there is a large list of things that I would be doing if I were you, and you seem to be completely ignorant of the entire thing... I still maintain however, that you best not criticise anything about the place while I'm present, because I can end you. And I have no issues over doing it either. As your dictator, I don't take particularly well to the crass degradation of an entire line of work." I shot right back at her. I wasn't really in the mood to be listening to the opinions of some stupid 12 regarding an occupation that she didn't even hold. I wasn't here for that or for a dissertation on her useless feels. I was here to get to the chatbox, and after that, get somewhere with a ceiling. If my hands were still intact, I could have made this entire process more effective by simply shooting her.

Ah well.

Cricket

"Shut up," I muttered at Mr. Face, who as said wasn't supposed to be talking at all. And then, back to Ana. "Listen, I want 'im alive just as much as you do." Except . . . it almost seemed like I wanted him alive just a tad more. Something about her words. There was no talk of concern for him, just the flat complaint of 'what about me'. Honestly, I didn't particularily like Ana, not at all. I might have simply pushed her aside without another word. If T.Mor didn't get back to her . . . well . . . perhaps I'd go find her then. Because he'd want her to be taken care of, like he'd spent his entire life trying to do.

But until then, I didn't want to deal with her. I could have simply pushed her aside like she was a simply obstacle rather than a person and gone right up to the chatbox door.

Oi my my . . . in fact, I did.

Mr.Face:

I heard Cricket push her aside and walk into the house, after rudely telling me to shut up. I hadn't said anything excessively out of line, I'd thought... just expressed my discontent at her inferior means of speaking with regards to things that pertained to me. I followed him in, the girl speaking behind us as we did. "Wow, rude much? I finally open the door and I don't even get an "excuse me"? I didn't know that he had such bad taste in friends too."

This child was getting on my nerves. Was she just programmed for nothing but disrespect? Because that's certainly what it seemed like, frustratingly. I held my tongue for the moment, preferring to simply listen to the place marginally more than I wanted to listen to whatever garbled nonsense came out of her mouth. At least there were ceilings.

I waited expectantly for Cricket's movements, figuring that I'd simply follow him to wherever the chatbox door was.

Cricket

I bit my tongue quite literally, telling myself that it wasn't worth turning around and mouthing off to the little parasite. I just waited at the chatbox door for Mr. Face to follow.

Mr.Face:

I was following Cricket up the stairs, wondering if the stairs were actually safe to ascend, when I heard the front door open a second time, and that hideous girl immediately start talking again.

"I thought the building blew up! Some psychos lied and said you were dead and also that you had friends so that they could get upstairs... I tried to not let them in, but like I said, they said you were dead. I told you to get rid of that job. It's not safe." She ranted. I suppoused that that meant that Mr.Namechov was still walking the Erf.

"... ...uhm, no... there... there was an announcement... ...uhm... I'm... it's... fine... and... and who did you say was... ...was...uhm... here...?" And that of course was the unmistakably irritating voice of one Mr.Namechov. Lovely.

"Tada. No reason to be mad at me now." I muttered to Cricket, with a satisfied smile on my face.

Cricket

And then T.Mor was here.

I grinned. He made it out. Lovely. He was alive. Brilliant. In the spur of the moment I almost dashed out and greeted him, but caught myself. I'd brought Mr. Face into his house . . . like such the wonderful, trustworthy friend I was . . . lovely.

The grin vanished as I turned back to Mr. Face and muttered "Stay 'ere," before poking my head out from behind the stairway. " 'ey friend! Pardon, truly pardon th' intrusion, I was simply in a particularily tricky situation and, ah, still seem t' be in one as a matter o' fact. Simply needed t' find a way t' th' chatbox. I'll explain later, but now...mate! You're alive! Hah! 'oly 'ell I was worried t' death! I ought t' go but honestly, thank you so much for being alive!" The grin was back.

Mr.Face:

And then Cricket pushed past me a little to presumably see down the stairs. "... ...Oh... uhm... did... did... Were you there...? When it uhm... ...exploded...?" He asked, I imagined as a result of some kind of visual alteration to Cricket's usual appearance. "And...and...I mean...I'm... I'm glad... too uh, yeah... It's... uhm... don't worry about...about the whole...er... being here thing... I mean...it's... it's you...so..." He ranted irritatingly.

"Well, it's him and the tall freakshow, actually." The irritatingly petulant girl inserted. It took pretty much all of my self control to refrain from coming downstairs and correcting her by force. But Cricket told me to stay here, and presumably that would somehow make things easier.

"... ...The...? ...Ana... ...what're you...? ...Cricket...?" he asked, completely perplexed.

This had the potential to be a hot mess. I just hoped that Cricket could handle his awkward social situations well, so as to perhaps avoid any issues.

Cricket

Well.

Oh bother. I'd have to explain this. "...A'right, ah...don't freak out too much..." I stepped into the room. This could potentially be a terrible mess if I didn't chose my words wisely. "See, that's th' potentially tricky situation that she mentioned, ah. With th' whole Mr. Face situation, see, 'e couldn't be in th' building any more for obvious reasons and outside for 'im is out o' th' question and so I 'ad t' find a way t' get 'im inside and somewhere that isn't Auda for th' time being or else...ah...so, pardon, very much so pardon, but I sort of 'ad t' very quickly bring 'im through 'ere t' th' chatbox door."

Mr.Face:

I listened to the explanation that Cricket offered up, which was essentially a version of the truth with a more tenuous grasp of grammatical concepts than I would be completely comfortable with.

Mr.Namechov seemed to be mulling that over a bit. Or something. I actually have no idea what he was doing, because I scarcely have an idea of what he's doing. I just give up on trying to explain his actions. "... ...Oh... uhm... ...ok... ...I...I mean.... I guess... uhm." It was kind of amusing to know that that particular tone of awkward could be incited merely at the mention of my name. "Should... Where should I... uhm... ...I don't want to...uhm... ...be.... in the way... ..." He continued.

Cricket

"In th' way? It's your own 'ouse, mate, if anything, we're in th' way. And so we were just leaving, as a matter o' fact, and ah...terribly sorry, friend, honestly. 'ere, ah...we'll be out right quick, a'right?" I started back toward the stairs.

Mr.Face:

"... ...er... that's... uhm, yeah... ...It's... it's fine... uhm. Yeah..." He replied in his uniquely fractured English. As a general warning, anything that Mr.Namechov happened to say after that point, I did not bother listening to, because I was in a substansial amount of pain and had better things to do with my life than to eavesdrop on him.

I waited for Cricket to reclaim his position as the lead prior to heading anywhere. It would be a terrible faux pas to think I was heading through a chatbox door and accidentally end up somewhere that was not intended to be heard by others. Quite certain that that wouldn't go over well. Ordinarily I wouldn't have cared at all, and indeed the idea that I actually do care is laugh inducing, however I understood that Cricket would be less than pleased if I went on an impromptu field trip through Mr.Namechov's personal life, and I didn't much want to irritate him at the moment. What with being temporarily displaced from my own universe and all.

Cricket

"Pardon again, friend, ah . . . see you round, then?"

I rather disliked being stuck between Mr. Face and T.Mor in situations like this. T.Mor would take whatever was given to him, even me walking the most likely least wanted person in his mind through his own house, and I rather disliked taking advantage of that. But then, on the other end of things was a deal with Mr. Face. Even if I decided to chuck my word aside and go on my merry way, perhaps Mr. Face would end up making the way a whole lot less merry and quite a bit more painful once the protective barrier of friendship was gone. Either way I lost.

I retreated back up the stairs and through the door into the chatbox before anyone could see Mr. Face. Sure, T.Mor knew he was there, but that didn't mean he had to see him.

Mr.Face:

I followed Cricket into the chatbox. The bizarrely non-euclidean chatbox, which I had learned to tolerate from hours spent in the bloody thing. I still didn't like it at all, but it was a small step up from the hideous emptyness of the sky. Even if it was just as impossible.

"Alright, where to now? I honestly don't care where we end up, so long as I don't have to hear any of this non-euclidean nonsense, the sky, and will be able to sleep for several more hours upon arrival." I asked, as soon as the door was closed from Mr.Namechov's residence. Seriously, why does he even HAVE a door to the chatbox in his residence?

Cricket

" 'ere." I opened a door. It had to be the right door because there was only one in the box. The space inside was dim except for the occasional flash of lightning through a boarded window, revealing one of the many long hallways of the Bell Tower.

It all hit me at once once again, everything that had just happened. I'd been in a bomb. Mr. Face's arms were broken and broken again to be fixed. I'd shot down a terrorist. T.Mor wasn't dead. Mr. Face was living with me for a while. I still had bits of bomb splinters sticking out of my skin and oi my my thank hell I was home, I was so ready to be home. Too much to think about, oi my my.

But oi my . . . how would I explain all of this to Finn?

Bah. I'd think of something once it happened. For now, I just lead the way through the door.

Mr.Face:

He lead me through a door that led to a hallway. Mind you, they sounded nothing like my hallways at home, considering the fact that I didn't have very many windows at all, and while the halls were still quite solid, they didn't feel like the poured concrete that I had in my household. It wasn't terribly unpleasant to listen to actually, though the excessive echoes that were brought about by the stone floor had the potential to be very distracting at a later date. It actually had more than a passing resemblance to the Cellblocks, simply because the Cellblocks were constructed from an amalgamation of cinder blocks, and stone, making them quite easy on the ears. "Nice choice in building material. The lack of plywood is quite refreshing." I stated as I followed through the door.

Cricket

"I didn't build th' place. Only took it over. It's not bad at all if you don't mind th' supposed ghosts and 'auntings."

Right at that time the weather seemed to find it amusing to send a crack of thunder splitting through the air, sending echoes down the hall as well as streaks of silver light. I ran a hand through my hair and smiled at that a tad, the thought that the weather might somehow be on my side to prove a point. Funny coincidence.

Mr.Face:

I had been about to suggest giving the place a once over with a .22 to get rid of the ghost pants that he seemed to be implying were an issue, however at that moment some hideous loud thing happened, that seemed to shake the very ground we were walking on. It was as though a drummer who couldn't keep his bass line in check and a defective AK-47 got together to try to write dub step or something...and then used their hideous resultant product to try and surprise us. I didn't like it.

"What was that and how much do we have to pay it to get it to stop forever?" I asked immediately.

Cricket

Ah right. They don't have thunder in Auda, do they? "That was thunder. Comes with th' rain sometimes. And t' be frank, it's impossible t' make it stop forever." I now had a bit more of a sense of which hallway we were actually in, and kept walking in the direction of the auditorium, which was where I spent most of my time here anyhow. It occured to me after a bit that I didn't have any sort of actual bed to offer. Sometimes I would sleep up in the platforms that held the theatre ropes, but I didn't think Mr. Face would find that too suitable at all considering that he was, in fact, himself. Ah well. We had plenty of floor. It was a bed and a chair and a table all in one.

Mr.Face:

Thunder, which is accompanied by rain...and impossible to stop forever. Lovely. "You're quite sure that if we don't just leave a blank check out for it, it won't simply take it and shut up for the rest of eternity?" I asked, irritatedly.

I followed him down the hall to wherever he was headed, and hoped that it was somewhere where a good quantity of sleep could be had without the hazard of terrorists breaking in. I didn't particularly like feeling this exhausted, and attributed the feeling to the sudden accumulation of substansial damage to my limbs. There was still a bit of fluctuation between the novelty of the feeling of pain, and the annoyance of the feeling of pain. Pain, as I have said already, is something that looks good on other people. Not on me.

Cricket

"If you want t' go stand out there in th' storm waving a slip o' paper at th' sky like a madman, be my--" Another crack of thunder. "--guest."

Mr.Face:

"...No, no... I think that perhaps we all ought to go take shelter somewhere and hope that the planet isn't boarded by space invaders. Additionally, I may want to educate you in corpse dismemberment in the event that the aliens happen to be of the corpse infesting variety. ...And until they actually descend upon us, I think that I would quite like to sleep and try to ignore the apparent impending apocalypse. If you don't mind." I answered. I didn't like that whatever this thunder was was so recurrent and loud. Yes, it lit up the walls like a well placed bit of C-4, but quite honestly... It came from the sky. I couldn't trust that it wasn't just an invasion invited in by poor firewall maintenance.

Cricket

"It's only thunder, Mr. Face, and I'm not sure we even 'ave space invaders 'ere. We get thunder...ah, maybe once or twice a week depending on th' season. Th' world's not ending, I assure you." The auditorium actually hadn't been too far away. "There's not much of a place t' lay down except for th' floor though, so I 'ope you don't mind." I found one of the pairs of doors that lead inside and heaved the heavy thing open--

"GAH!" A spasm of beak and claws and black feathers was attacking my face, and as a result a spasm of whistles and curses escaped my mouth. " 'ELL! Glad t' see you too you GODDAMN BIRD get off o' me--!"

"Cri--?" I was almost too busy trying to fight off the small beast to notice when a swooping whistle sounded and she flapped prissily back up to her master. I muttered a couple more curses, wiping at a claw mark on my lip before looking up to see a familiar face camouflaged in freckles and topped with a mass of blonde hair. "You forgot t' whistle. Thought it was some-- wait a moment. You look a bloody mess."

Mr.Face:

Thunder was routine, there were no space invaders, and there was no Serta mattress to sleep on. I barely know how to contain my enthusiasm.

I continued following Cricket until he was unexpectedly mauled by a high speed projectile. This apparently was routine as well, however, and after some shrill intrusions to my inner ear, the apparent owner of the projectile made himself known.

There was an additional person here. He hadn't told me that there would be an additional person... This was just exceedingly awkward now, especially since I was sorely tempted to do some investigation as to the height of this ceiling... And it would be very odd to do so in front of some random third person.

And really, would it have been so difficult to warn me that there was some third person?

"Cricket... Excuse my interruption, but, who is that...?" I asked after a moment.

Cricket

Oh bother. I hadn't told him, had I?

Well, I'd just survived a terrorist attack and taken my frienenemacquantance home with me like some abnormally tall new pet, hoping Finn would let me keep him. Pardon me for forgetting all about how said frienemacquantance would react.

I tried to tilt my head back toward Mr. Face and mutter an answer without looking too guilty. "Ah, that's Finn, 'e lives 'ere t--"

"And who're you talking t', kid?" Back to Finn, who was leaning over the balcony railing about as far as he could, eyebrow raised, both curious and concerned.

"No one, honestly, it's--"

"You still look a mess, lad. Somethings wrong, I can see it in your face, c'mon now. Who're you talking t'?"

"No one! 'old on a moment, a'right?"

He didn't hold on a moment. In a second he'd climbed over the railing and dropped down quick, Develyn fluttering behind him. The moment in which his gaze turned from the bird now on his shoulder to the figure in the doorway seemed to drag, but when he caught a glimpse . . . oi my my. I think he jumped about a foot in the air and very nearly toppled backwards. "WOAH whatisthat?"

Mr.Face:

... ...Finn, who lives here too, and whose automatic reaction was "What is that?". Yes. Great. Aside from the lovely architecture, I wasn't quite sure how I was going to deal with being here instead of where I normally lived, knowing that here held thunder and the unexpected revival of the pronoun "that", along with the high speed flying projectile and a notable deficit of mattresses.

"That, in case you truly were unaware prior to now, is a pronoun, used to describe an object or thing, of which I am neither. A more appropriate use of the word in this context would be "Who is that?", unless of course you intended to inquire as to the particular part of speech of that word, in which case, I am delivering the wrong diatribe, and ought to be lecturing you mercilessly on your etiquette." I stated coldly.