vatheon | things that can only end well: THIS

Wow. By now, Bro's starting to wonder if Sufferer's got an amazing pokerface or if he's just a genuinely relaxed, nice guy. Either way, the lack of proper reaction and just how easily the information on dick size comes is throwing him for a loop. He blinks a few times behind his shades, then shrugs and starts towards the tea shop.

"Just to be sure, dinner's still a thing, right? I haven't eaten in a while, so if there's no grub I'm outta here."

"They have food, don't worry." Sufferer trots after him, following him into the shop. "Just sandwiches and things, but if you're still hungry afterwards, we can go somewhere else."

If Bro doesn't protest, Sufferer is going to steer him towards his favorite table in the corner of the shop. "Any tea or food preferences?"

Oh, he's protesting. However, it's in the more subtle manner of shrugging the Sufferer's hands off him and putting some distance between them. The "no touchy" policy is still a thing. He's just not going to comment on it.

"Nah, I'll eat just about anything." He takes a seat at the table the Sufferer was obviously attempting to lead him to. "You go ahead and order whatever you think is good, and I'll settle for that."

"All right." Sufferer flags down a waitress and places an order for a pot of tea, some sandwiches, and two bowls of soup. That done, he folds his hands on the table and smiles at Bro.

"I had fun rapping with you."

While the Sufferer folds his hands on the table, Bro in turn folds his own arms behind his head and leans back in his chair. So far back, even, that the chair's balancing on its two hind legs.

"I'd be pretty fucking surprised if you didn't. Rapping with a Strider is like slamming rhymes with the gods."

Sufferer is not that slick--if he tried that move he'd almost certainly end up on the floor--so all four of his chair's feet stay on the floor.

"I hope I did okay and that it was fun for you too." Self-conscious laughter. "I don't get a chance to do that very often."

"Naw, you did fine. For a guy who doesn't rap that much, you've got a decent sense of rhythm."

That's as close as Sufferer's going to get to a compliment. Bro doesn't like handing out sincere buttpatts too often, because the way he sees it, there's always room for improvement.

"Thank you." Oh no, Bro, what did you do? Now that Sufferer has been encouraged, he's going to rap more often!

"Seems like you've settled into Vatheon well. What do you do to keep busy?"

He sees no problem with Sufferer rapping more often. Vatheon can never have enough ironic rappers. Not ever. He leans back in the chair a little more, mulling over the question.

"Uh... Same thing I did back home, I guess, minus the website. I play videogames, watch shitty movies, dick around with sharp objects and sew puppets together."

"You make puppets? Can I see one?"

"No, you can't see one." The response comes almost immediately, but it's followed by an amused grin and an idle wave of the hand.

"I captchalogue those little guys in groups so they don't clutter up my sylladex too much. You wanna see a puppet, I'm gonna have to take out a whole pile of 'm. ...Which is cool by me, just know what you're in for."

While one puppet sounds good, a pile of them sounds even better!

"I'd love to!"

Although Bro's word choice when he called the puppets a pile makes Sufferer wonder if his new human friend secretly needs a moirail...

Bro hadn't expected the Sufferer to actually agree to these terms, but true to his word, he doesn't mind too much. He shuffles through a few captchalogue cards until he finds something suitable. Then, through the magic of sylladex, a two feet high pile of Smuppets appears next to their table. The reason they're all grouped together is because they were all made with various kinds patterned fabrics. Not as neat as the plain-colored Smuppets, but the mayhem of the patterns is endearing in its own way.

Bro's face shows absolutely no shame at all those phallic noses and bulbous bottoms sticking out of the pile.

If the phallic noses and plush rumps bother Sufferer, he doesn't show it. He's a little surprised at the size of the pile--definitely a pile, if he didn't know better, he'd think Bro was putting the pale moves on him--but he finds the riotous patterns endearing and delightful.

"They're so cute!" Without asking, he reaches down to pick one up, a particularly vibrant specimen with very bright plumage.

Don't worry Sufferer, Bro can show off his phallic handiwork without having any ulterior motives. This is just one of several Smuppet piles in his sylladex. He's trying to be merciful towards his two bros by keeping his puppets out of the apartment's public areas, instead limiting it all to his bedroom and sylladex.

"Yeah? You like 'm? You can have one if you promise to take good care of the little guy."

Sufferer holds the puppet and completely unironically honks its nose. Sorry, he just doesn't see the phallic reference. The rump he understands, and after squeezing one of the cheeks in curiosity, leaves it alone. He hasn't gotten that vaguely unsettled feeling Smuppets tend to give people, and sets the puppet on its rump next to his water glass.

"Oh no, I couldn't, that's far too generous of you." No, but seriously, he's taking this puppet home.

The nose-honking and rump-squeezing just earns Sufferer a sly smirk from Bro. He hasn't seen this much genuine Smuppet curiosity since ... He can't even remember. Probably since Dave was very young.

"Man, did you not see the bigass pile? I got plenty of these things."

"Are you sure?" Given that Sufferer has never actually seen how human procreation works, his fascination with the Smuppet is entirely innocent! He swears!

"Positive." He pauses for a moment to move the rest of the pile back into his sylladex before some unfortunate sap trips over it or whatever. Can't be too careful.

"Back home, I'd sell 'm, but it ain't like I need money to pay for shit here. Most I could ask for one is a token."

Sufferer takes out a token and tosses it across the table to Bro. "Thank you, then."

Monsieur Plush Rump looks on impassively.

Now now, Monsieur Plush Rump. Don't be like that. Bro just found you a much nicer home than that stuffy sylladex of his. You should be happy.

Either way, Bro picks up the token and twirls it around between his fingers for a few seconds, then flips it right back at the Sufferer. "That was hypothetical, dipshit. Yours is still on the house."

Monsieur Plush Rump will have a fine new home, with plenty of people to menace with his strangely suggestive snout.

"All right, but I'm buying drinks later." Not that that means anything, considering drinks are free here, but whatever. Sufferer puts the token away, and their waitress shows up with their food. She side-eyes Monsieur Plush Rump and puts the food down quickly before beating a hasty retreat. Sufferer raises his water glass to Bro. "Cheers!"

Bro will accept that semi-pointless compromise. It's the thought that counts and considering the thought is pretty damn ironic, it's a perfect deal. The fact that the waitress seems unnerved by Monsieur Plush Rump only makes it that much better. He raises his glass as well, smirking.

"Cheers."

Sufferer smiles, then gets down to the serious business of eating his sandwich. He still eats a little like a wild animal, all business and getting it down as fast as possible, so he won't be a very good conversationalist for a few minutes.

For a few seconds, Bro simply watches the Sufferer scarf down his food. Then he smiles, shrugs and starts shoving his own sandwich into his mouth. They say if you can't beat 'm, join 'm, but beating is a legit option anyway. Let's see who can finish eating first.

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just realized they're basically in Vatheon Panera Bread

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