033. Royal Orleans

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[People can build bonfires and burn effigies all they want -- some guys (lowercase G) have work to do!

One of whom is Brock. He has work to do.

That work is, of course, patching up the huge fuckoff hole in the side of his dumb cabin. He is out in the woods right now, though he's more staring at the huge fuckoff hole than doing any sort of repair. How does one even fix a hole in a log cabin. Does he need to knock down the whole wall ...

Making a frustrated noise, he flips his journal open.]

I lost my lumberjack. Does anyone cut down trees for fun, or do I have to go find an axe?

-- and Crowley. I hope you got a steering lock for your goddamn car.

Comments

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

Nobody said you couldn't hang out with me while I -- wait, what? I don't need a babysitter, you asshole.

[molotov]

Well, as you refuse to fully commit to me, I must assume there is an ulterior motive. And that means that da, you do need a babysitter.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Brock briefly considers knocking himself in the face with the flat edge of one of these axes. What the fuck, lady?]

An ulterior -- lady, I just want a hobby. A hobby that I don't have to rush through! We're together, right, but that doesn't mean we're the same goddamn person.

[molotov]

Who is making you rush?! You cannot even chop the wood on your own, so why does it matter if you use logs from the castle?

[Molotov is getting closer and closer to pulling the pin on her grenade.]

You do not want to spend your time with me? This is fine. You can spend your time cleaning up a crater instead.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

Look, calm down. I didn't say I don't want to spend time with you.

I just don't want to involve magic in building this thing, alright? If you want to help me cut down trees, or just sit there and ... I don't know, dictate ...

[molotov]

[Molotov just glares. It is quite clear that she doesn't exactly think highly of these options.]

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Well, it's a good thing Brock knows what revs Molotov's motor! He drops the axes to the ground on either side of him with a thunk, and slowly approaches her.]

C'mon ... I can take my shirt off ... you can tell me what to do ...

[molotov]

[Though she still doesn't speak, Molotov's grip on the pin of her grenade loosens a little, and her face relaxes just a bit.]

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Edging closer ...]

And we can ... I don't know, wear flannel or something.

[Costumes??? Molotov likes costumes too, right?]

[molotov]

[Molotov squints at this for a moment, before quietly piping up.]

Can we... kick Spike out and stay in the cabin for the night when you are done? With a fire?

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[They can't kick him out, he is Brock's bro ...!]

Well, we could just ... not tell him it's fixed right away ...

[molotov]

[That does not give him a right to live in Brock's cabin!]

Can we... get a bearskin rug?

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Well, Brock is allowing him to do that! Shut up, woman, it's not your cabin.]

I ... there's no bears around here to kill. I don't think so, anyway. So ... uh, I guess you could wish one up?

[molotov]

A rug or a bear?

[Molotov doesn't look unhappy with either of those options.]

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

Uh. A rug ...

[He's not killing, skinning, and tanning a bear for you, lady! You complain he doesn't spend enough time with you as it is.]

[molotov]

[But, unlike building a cabin, killing/skinning/tanning a bear is something Molotov would like to watch Brock do!]

This works.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Well, too bad! Missed your chance, lady.]

Alright.

[Waiting ... she'd better wish for it because he's not going to ...]

[molotov]

[Molotov looks confused by his waiting. Why would she wish for the rug now? The cabin is missing a wall!]

What?

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Oh ...]

Nothing. I'll let you know when it's fixed, I guess.

[molotov]

[Molotov smiles.]

Da. Now apologize to me for your rudeness, and you can return to wasting this time.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Flatly] I'm sorry for being rude, Molotov.

[molotov]

[And the grenade finally goes away.

Molotov smiles wider and moves closer to him, to place her hand on his face.]

Good boy. See you tonight?

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Yes ... good ...

Brock pauses to touch her hand on his face.]

Sure thing, honey.

[molotov]

[Pleased, Molotov takes her hand away and blows him a kiss.]

I am going to go agility train.

[Which she apparently intends to do by climbing the nearest tree and taking off into the forest. Via the trees. Brock Samson, this is your girlfriend.]