“Vergel.”
It was in that one repetition of his name that Spitfire had succeeded where her bribery and threats had failed. From the mouth that had explicitly described the unrepentant deaths of his fellow man and also been the very portal to their slow, digestive demise was a shudder of absolute exhaustion, a fleeting relative to the decimation of his spot of dwelling that held that same desperation for the day to grant just a single unironic ‘yes.’ “Please.”
Vergel locked eyes with the miserable-looking Pegasus that so resembled the war-ravaged general who only a few secondas ago stood in that same spot, but in a steadying breath, he shed as much bitterness his brain could allow, casting her a frown of sympathy. “Okay, Spitfire.”
86 and JD read the writing on their foreheads as well, casting each other looks of self-disgust at merely having been smiling in the ruined remains of Vergel’s kitchen, and with one awaiting the other to offer an idea, it was the whalish unicorn who coughed into his fist.
“Actually, maybe I could go shopping!” He offered, adding to the bloodstreams of cracks in Vergel’s floors by shifting his weight upwards, stopping just short of impaling the roof with his horn. “With direction I wouldn’t mind at-“
“NO!!!” Vergel wailed on instinct, which came with immediate as Spitfire and 86 flinched as fear shook along JD’s paunchy features, but what should he do? Let JD walk across his house again, risking further damage? Have JD be able to prove himself? Make him stay? Let him leave? Stay? Leave? Stay? Leave? “Just...maybe just stay still, if you don’t mind. Just until my head’s straight.”
“...M’kay.” JD said in shame, sinking back down, but in doing so tumbled further into the unending pit of shame that was his life at the extra ripping of wood and nails underneath him. “Aw...” He peeped in a whiny tone with his hand extending on its own at a chair, but it was when he had his lips and teeth hugging the corner to take a bite from it that he understood the terror in Vergel’s eyes. “O-Oh! Sorry, Mister, y-you don’t mind if I...Wait, what a, I saying?! Of course you’d mind! I just...aw, shucks...”
Vergel felt the pain in his finger before consciously realizing he was biting into it, got a hold of himself and disguised it as scratching his cheeks. Shifting his eyes to Spitfire, he pointed to the chair that JD was holding and rubbed his fingers in the mute’s symbol for money, to which she nodded back sadly. “Nah, man, just...just go right ahead.”
“Hm?” JD uttered with his mouth full, but on seeing it was from that very chair he was holding, he just chuckled shyly and took another bite.
“...and Agent 86?” Spitfire asked of the wall-eyed assassin, but flinched when the face looking back was blank surrounding the impossibility of eye contact. “How about...how about you let me take control with supper? As commander, I think it’s best to decide our rations appropriately...to...do the thing, and...huh.”
Spitfire spoke her words like a bunch of stepping stones, testing one after the other in silent fear that she’d speak some remote trigger words from the gray mare, but 86 just smiled back in response. “Okay, Spitfire!”
When the muscle-bound killer bounced out of the kitchen, likely venturing back to her and Vergel’s room, Spitfire’s chest deflated as a held breath was released. “...and JD, how about I handle the shopping, too?”
“Okay, Spitfire.” He answered quietly, but with another brief grin of sincerity.
“And Vergel...” The mustard-colored Pegasus began when he expected her to just go about her own business but instead stuck her arm out to hook him around his shoulders, yanking him from the 86 and JD’s sights for the second time that day. “Regardless of any authority I may carry, I promise I won’t hand you any major orders...but if you don’t mind me intruding, do you think you could help us cook, too? I just know from experience that working in the barracks is a great means of team-building,and considering how long we may be here, well...you know.”
Vergel knew it would still be a long, long road to recovery, with or without all the encouragement and payment Spitfire had waiting for him, but in an almost therapeutic act, he jabbed a finger deep into Spitfire’s nude belly flab. “Well, as long as my role isn’t an ingredients, I can take whatever you guys might have in store for me.”
...but in an act that was most definitely not a rustled quip, nor her playfully smacking his hand aside, Spitfire grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him, cradling against the ocean of warm lard and fur her enormity provided. It wasn’t her holding him to garner his attention, it wasn’t him being held by his collar in a desperate threat to influence him into staying, but just a warm, cherishing hug like what he said was everything that she wanted in the world at that moment, and sure enough, what he saw in Spitfire’s eyes when she pulled him away was pure gratitude. “Thank you, Vergel.”
Another stiff exhale exited him. Many more would follow, but it could still be felt in a lack of weight in his chest. “Anytime.”
Choice 1: It’s after all four of them make dinner together that Vergel finally begins to enjoy the company.
Choice 2: In waiting for supper, JD eats more of Vergel’s home, and at supper he eats his meal..then Vergel’s...then Spitfire’s...then 86’s...and needs more.
Choice 3: Let’s watch Vergel on his first night of sleeping in the same bed as 86.
It was in that one repetition of his name that Spitfire had succeeded where her bribery and threats had failed. From the mouth that had explicitly described the unrepentant deaths of his fellow man and also been the very portal to their slow, digestive demise was a shudder of absolute exhaustion, a fleeting relative to the decimation of his spot of dwelling that held that same desperation for the day to grant just a single unironic ‘yes.’ “Please.”
Vergel locked eyes with the miserable-looking Pegasus that so resembled the war-ravaged general who only a few secondas ago stood in that same spot, but in a steadying breath, he shed as much bitterness his brain could allow, casting her a frown of sympathy. “Okay, Spitfire.”
86 and JD read the writing on their foreheads as well, casting each other looks of self-disgust at merely having been smiling in the ruined remains of Vergel’s kitchen, and with one awaiting the other to offer an idea, it was the whalish unicorn who coughed into his fist.
“Actually, maybe I could go shopping!” He offered, adding to the bloodstreams of cracks in Vergel’s floors by shifting his weight upwards, stopping just short of impaling the roof with his horn. “With direction I wouldn’t mind at-“
“NO!!!” Vergel wailed on instinct, which came with immediate as Spitfire and 86 flinched as fear shook along JD’s paunchy features, but what should he do? Let JD walk across his house again, risking further damage? Have JD be able to prove himself? Make him stay? Let him leave? Stay? Leave? Stay? Leave? “Just...maybe just stay still, if you don’t mind. Just until my head’s straight.”
“...M’kay.” JD said in shame, sinking back down, but in doing so tumbled further into the unending pit of shame that was his life at the extra ripping of wood and nails underneath him. “Aw...” He peeped in a whiny tone with his hand extending on its own at a chair, but it was when he had his lips and teeth hugging the corner to take a bite from it that he understood the terror in Vergel’s eyes. “O-Oh! Sorry, Mister, y-you don’t mind if I...Wait, what a, I saying?! Of course you’d mind! I just...aw, shucks...”
Vergel felt the pain in his finger before consciously realizing he was biting into it, got a hold of himself and disguised it as scratching his cheeks. Shifting his eyes to Spitfire, he pointed to the chair that JD was holding and rubbed his fingers in the mute’s symbol for money, to which she nodded back sadly. “Nah, man, just...just go right ahead.”
“Hm?” JD uttered with his mouth full, but on seeing it was from that very chair he was holding, he just chuckled shyly and took another bite.
“...and Agent 86?” Spitfire asked of the wall-eyed assassin, but flinched when the face looking back was blank surrounding the impossibility of eye contact. “How about...how about you let me take control with supper? As commander, I think it’s best to decide our rations appropriately...to...do the thing, and...huh.”
Spitfire spoke her words like a bunch of stepping stones, testing one after the other in silent fear that she’d speak some remote trigger words from the gray mare, but 86 just smiled back in response. “Okay, Spitfire!”
When the muscle-bound killer bounced out of the kitchen, likely venturing back to her and Vergel’s room, Spitfire’s chest deflated as a held breath was released. “...and JD, how about I handle the shopping, too?”
“Okay, Spitfire.” He answered quietly, but with another brief grin of sincerity.
“And Vergel...” The mustard-colored Pegasus began when he expected her to just go about her own business but instead stuck her arm out to hook him around his shoulders, yanking him from the 86 and JD’s sights for the second time that day. “Regardless of any authority I may carry, I promise I won’t hand you any major orders...but if you don’t mind me intruding, do you think you could help us cook, too? I just know from experience that working in the barracks is a great means of team-building,and considering how long we may be here, well...you know.”
Vergel knew it would still be a long, long road to recovery, with or without all the encouragement and payment Spitfire had waiting for him, but in an almost therapeutic act, he jabbed a finger deep into Spitfire’s nude belly flab. “Well, as long as my role isn’t an ingredients, I can take whatever you guys might have in store for me.”
...but in an act that was most definitely not a rustled quip, nor her playfully smacking his hand aside, Spitfire grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him, cradling against the ocean of warm lard and fur her enormity provided. It wasn’t her holding him to garner his attention, it wasn’t him being held by his collar in a desperate threat to influence him into staying, but just a warm, cherishing hug like what he said was everything that she wanted in the world at that moment, and sure enough, what he saw in Spitfire’s eyes when she pulled him away was pure gratitude. “Thank you, Vergel.”
Another stiff exhale exited him. Many more would follow, but it could still be felt in a lack of weight in his chest. “Anytime.”
Choice 1: It’s after all four of them make dinner together that Vergel finally begins to enjoy the company.
Choice 2: In waiting for supper, JD eats more of Vergel’s home, and at supper he eats his meal..then Vergel’s...then Spitfire’s...then 86’s...and needs more.
Choice 3: Let’s watch Vergel on his first night of sleeping in the same bed as 86.
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April 19
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