The Nefarious Coffee Pot

Cricket
I clenched my jaw, carefully rising to my full height. Which ... wasn't much. "Per'aps I wasn't feeling particularily talkative at th' time. Cell Block Five's a prison, not exactly a coffee shop." The banter softened the memory, almost ... and it blocked out the seriousness of the situation at hand. I wasn't prisoner in a villian's chat. I was having coffee.

Aria

I grabbed a different spell and spoke the incantation; my hand started to glow with purple magic. The magic stretched outward and became a larger hand, like an extension of mine. I opened the door and reached for the dog, which backed away. I made another grab at it, but it dodged, managing to bite me. Well, bite the energy.

"Ow!" I yelped, cringing. "Get back here, doggy!"

The third time was the charm. I grabbed hold of the dog and lifted it up. It growled, scrabbling and clawing at the air while still trying to bite me. It shortly realized the futility of its situation, however, and relaxed, resigned. I pulled it into the room, tossed it down next to the black-haired boy, shut the door, and dismissed the spell. I rubbed my forearm as the energy vanished, wincing slightly. That...was going to leave a mark.

"Okay, now let's see who you are!" I said, my voice just a little bit tight. I retrieved the paper with the glamour-removal spell...only to find that that spell had disintegrated. "God damn it! I'll have to rewrite the thing..."

Cricket
Peter ... I was thrown out of my glazed-over reality again, at the sight of the dog. Why was he here? He couldn't be here, he would get hurt, he ... Oi my my. I looked away, too late hiding the recognition in my expression, which I was sure had been scrawled on my face like writing.
Peter'd shut me out ... So why was he here? Reminders. He wasn't a friend because he no longer wanted to be. Then why ... ?

Mr.Face:

"If I served coffee in cellblock five would you be more inclined to dispense witticisms then?" I asked My Prisoner before I turned to listen to the presence of the new animal.
Bigger than a cat. Dog then probably. This was the one unfortunate thing about Auda. There were no real...animals. At all. Just lolcats and advicedogs...Philosoraptors...None of them suitable for petting.
Even if these were just animal facades...they were exponentially better than the Audian selection.

Aria

"I'll have to rewrite the spell," I grumbled. "Anyone have any scrap paper?"

The dog wasn't even looking at the boy. It wasn't that the dog wasn't meeting his eyes; the fluffy thing was completely turned in another direction. It hadn't moved since I'd thrown it to the ground. It just sort of lay there on its side with a glazed expression in its eyes. Maybe I'd been wrong about those two being friends! Huh.

Mr.Face:

"Paper is terribly scarce in my home city. As a result, I have none. My apologies." I told the girl. "You may want to check the coffee girl for...whatever she uses to keep track of orders. Just a thought." I suggested, trying to remember if I had heard her scratch something down or not.

Aria

I successfully got some paper from the girl behind the counter and worked on scrawling out the spell. Again. After a little bit...

"There!" I announced. "It's done." I pointed at the dog, who hadn't moved at all (How boring!), and spoke the incantation. Only then did it start to sit up. In a blast of purple light, it turned into someone very familiar.

Oh. Him.

"YU!" a male voice shouted. The other cloaked figure stood up suddenly, his mittened hands slamming down on the table. My creation-mate (Seriously, what were characters supposed to call other characters who were created by the same author? Maybe I just made a new word!) looked up at him with a blank expression and the same glassy-eyed look. Huh. That wasn't like him.

Cricket

I kept my face forward, trying to focus on clenching and unclenching my fists rather than the scene next to me. Peter, why are you here? Why the hell are you here? Was it for you, or simply because you don't care? "Aye, it's 'im. Thank you for voicing that, Mittens, I feel enlightened." Although, I'd felt like shouting that, too. He was the last person I'd wanted to see, anywhere . . . and aye, especially here. I didn't . . . didn't want to see him hurt, again. Even if he didn't care. That made it worse. He seemed broken, that way.

Mr.Face:

...My Hostage. That was...Interesting. "Were any of you informed that this was an exclusively 'antagonistic' coffeeshop?" I wondered, Making my way behind the coffee counter in search of improvised torture implements. Boiling water would only work for 50 percent of this situation. Hm... "Was anyone paranoid enough to bring along any weaponry that I might be able to use against these decietful...people?" Really I had no other reason to be contemplating chopping them up, but...since when did I need any kind of legitamate validation for my sadism? Wait. Deceit WAS a valid reason to disembowel someone in my city. Conscience cleared.

Cricket

My mind kept slipping. It was an art form, ignoring emotions, almost like spinning plates . . . like my thoughts were the plates, the floor was depression, and I had to keep them seperated with poles in between. Banter, optimism, philosophy, music, useless metaphors . . . optimism had been shot down somewhere between DDS and TDC. Music wasn't anywhere to be found, and I wasn't about to make a sound in front of these people. Philosophy and metaphors . . . those were tiring to keep spinning. Banter? I'd run out of words.

I suppose walking in that shop had been one last desperate attempt. Maybe it hadn't been a way out at all . . . just another way to keep going. There wasn't a way out, after all . . . I was fiction. But distraction was always possible. I nodded at Mr. Face's first question. ". . . Aye."

And . . . I was desperate. Peter . . . was a traitor. Marley . . . wasn't Marley. I hadn't heard much from T.Mor. It felt like everyone was falling away, all over again, like a stuck record. One down! Two down! Who would be next? Who's next in line to break a promise, tear away, and leave the outcast alone again? Any volunteers? I clenched my fists.

Stop. Thinking. Mr. Face asked another question, which replayed in my mind thoughtfully. You know . . . there was a knife . . .

No.

Yes. The knife was burning a hole in my side, pestering me to give it away. I wouldn't need it. I never used it. I couldn't use it on anyone else or myself, because I was a coward. What did a coward use a knife for? Well . . . it made for a good bluff. Give the knife to someone else, and it would be a distraction. It would hurt . . .

Oi my my. It would hurt. I didn't know why that made me feel so relieved.

I whistled something slowly, pulling the knife out of belt, inspecting its shine . . . I was sure my hands would be shaking by this point, but no.

Aria

And all of a sudden, dog-boy's hand clamped over Cricket's wrist. Unsurprising.

"What do you think you're doing," he said flatly. Emotionlessly.

"Can I jusd kill de bron-haired one?" the male cloaked figure asked with just a hint of wild glee. "I've been waiding for so long! I'd make id nice and slow..."

His words seemed to have absolutely no effect on dog-boy. Again, it was odd; my fellow wintery creation usually would've met a remark like that with some stupid bravado and a smartass comment. What was different today?

Then I realized that I didn't give a crap.

Mr.Face:

I always wonder why no one bothers to disarm eachother at times like these. Realistically, The weapon is still sitting right there, ripe for the pulling out of someone's fingers.

"He's being polite." I told My Hostage as a sort of...triumphant explanation. I went ahead an extended my hand for the weapon. This was like...cake. Only...without the implicit dishonesty.

Aria

Wordlessly, dog-boy was in action. He whacked the faceless mortal's hand away, moving with the momentum to stand in a defensive position beside kitty-boy.

"I'll kill you if I have to," he deadpanned.

Mr.Face:

Well...That was unexpected. And that was the hand with the bite taken out of it too. It had JUST stopped bleeding.
How inconvenient.
"I would like to keep my demise off the bargaining table for now, My Hostage, If it's all the same to you." I stated, returning the abused hand to my mouth. "However...I would like to have that weapon." I added, talking carefully around my own hand, so as to not further skewer it on my teeth.

Aria

"You can have that weapon when I'm dead," he droned. Seriously, how can you say a sentence like that in a monotone?

"I can arrange dahd!" came Mr. Cloakedperson's eager voice.

"Do what you want with me, but leave Cricket alone," dog-boy stated. How cliché. "You can kill me once his safety is assured. I don't care."

Mr.Face:

He was being contradictory in his statements.

I could have the weapon when he was dead.

He could not be killed until My Prisoner was in relative safety.

My Prisoner was the owner of the knife.

Therefore, He could never be safe and surrender the knife at the same time, even if My Hostage were dead.

"Someone just shoot My Hostage then. Makes this all easier logistically." I stated, not entirely in the mood to deal with this brainteaser.

Cricket

I just stood there. Dumbfounded. Then I started thinking again. Peter--! Why . . . ? Damn it, I couldn't . . . I couldn't watch that, I would break, I couldn't . . . "Don't, Peter," I said, holding out the knife again. Don't stop me. It would make it worse.

Aria

Dog-boy then tried to take the knife out of kitten-boy's hand.

"Yu can'd shud dahd one," the female cloaked figure informed. "He's a fire dype; he can prevend gunfire. Yu'll have du find anoder way if yu wand him dead. I cud probably forcibly draw all de wader in his body aod dru his skin."

"Can I ad leasd make him suffer, firsd?" the male one asked.

"Of course!"

Mr.Face:

Dehydrated humans did take up less space. "That could be interesting," I told the accented woman. "However, I too quite enjoy some screaming...and it is relatively hard to get out of My Hostage...So, If you would like a shot at it...I would be happy to oblige you the opportunity." I stated pragmatically. As long as there would be screaming. I really could handle not being the one immediately responsible for said screams. I suppoused.

Cricket

Being a pickpocket means being skilled with your hands. Therefore, I managed to keep my knife in my possession. A few twists, a yank, and-- ouch. I stepped away from Peter, opening my fingers and lifting the knife to see a red, inky line sliced into my palm. "Friend, don't," I repeated, wiping the cut on my shirt. "Is there anything I can do t' get 'im out of this?" I asked Mr. Face.

I couldn't see him die.

Aria

"I thought I wasn't your friend anymore," he droned. Then he turned to the faceless mortal. "Again, I don't care what you do to me. I offer this deal. If you let Cricket leave peacefully, you can cause me whatever pain you want. I will offer no resistance."

Wait, if they weren't friends, then...? Ohhhh, I got it. Semantics. Obviously, dog-boy still considered Cricket a friend. But they must've had some kind of falling out...?

Mr.Face:

"But where is the fun in that? Although...That actually would be pretty fun now that I think about it. Hm. Would you scream?" I had to know before I went and promised anything. These things were important to me. If I was giving away the loud 50 percent...than I would be forced to mentally kick myself. I had to weigh out my options.

Aria

"I would," he answered. "I wouldn't hold anything back."

"I like dahd plan," the male cloaked figure spoke, still gleeful.

"Of course you do, Mr. Cloakedperson," I said with an eyeroll. "You want to kill him. We get it!"

"My name is Na'arsif," he grumbled.

Cricket

I called everyone Friend. Even my enemies. But . . . what he said threw me off. I thought . . . he chose to leave. Didn't he? "Peter . . . I won't leave," I decided. "I'll still be 'ere. Don't bargain." Please. I watched him sternly, though in my thoughts I was pleading.

Mr.Face:

Hm. That would almost be more compelling than keeping them both here. Just...The idea of hearing My Hostage screaming. I could feel myself smiling just thinking about it.
"I concur." I told the accented man...Na'arsif. "This plan...is quickly becoming very appealing."
I took another half a second to think this through. "Deal." I told My Hostage, pretty sure there was some incarnation of a manic smile spread across my face. I wondered what exactly it looked like. I couldn't tell. Ever. And it constantly irritated me. Although this mental tangent was completely irrelevant.