Blood Ties

[Rojo]

Like a small child, Erik was pleased with their leader's praise for him and his dopey grin expanded, showing off teeth that were suprisingly white ('good' parenting- which in Erik's mother's opinion involved regular beating and chases about the house in one's undergarments - instills permanent messages int the minds of the young) if perhaps a little out-of-place, as clearly dentistry was 'the devil's magic' in the eyes of certain people.
The boy's confidence seemed to faulter when a game of Euchre was announced. However, in typical fashion, Erik hid his shortcomings with his oh-so-cocky bravado and false machismo.
"Oh, Euchre," he said as if it were a passing fly not worthy of his magnificent and all-knowing gaze "puh-lease," he made sure of the others knowledge that this word was two syllables as opposed to the usual one the average person used "I used to play Euchre when I was in diapers. . .yup, I remember one time when I was in this bar with all these greasy fishy motherfuckers-- some kind of fish demon, whatever. But anyhow, they were all settin' up this game of Euchre, only they were playing with souls as bets," he wasn't sure if Euchre involved betting, stakes or even hands but if this question was raised he would simply state it was Demon-Euchre and that anyone with half a nutsack could have guessed such a thing.

Doctor Shocks looked over as he heard his name, looking over at the kitchen table and the deck of cards. He hadn't really been following the conversation, only passively registering the changes in tone, pitch and volume of Tom's voice over the others, then a short outburst from Caimen.
He blinked twice, turning his head to look at the calendar and the date that had been marked. It haunted his every waking moment, always at the back of his mind. He felt like a marked man, always living in fear, the knowledge that bad things happened to people around you for reasons you couldn't control. It was his curse, his burden to carry and those who tried to help him died.
Adrian stepped away from the calendar, and with each step he took he felt his chest grow lighter and the world got a little brighter, colour seeping back into the universe like water slowly dribbling throug the walls of a badly-thrown together submarine. He pulled back a chair with a jerky, awkward motion of those who are socially reclusive and placed himself delicately upon it. He looked over at Erik, who was in the middle of his ridiculous tale.

". . .so then, after I'd won all their souls, they got mad. . ." like all of Erik's stories, no matter the starting subject, it always led to violence and inevitably Erik's victory over whatever disturbing hellish creature was the antagonist of that moment's fantastic embellishment "so I looked at the one nearest me and he's got dagger eyes for me, so I say 'You got a problem, punk?' And he goes to attack me but I pick up my beer bottle and smash it in this scaly fucker's noggin (crap beer anyway, probably Canadian) and he's walin' like a goddamn. . ." he grasped for an appropriate simile "trout of some shit an' his pal leans over the table with this fishy knife thing in his hand and I'm all like, 'Woah, you'll put someone's eye out with that thing' and I grab the knife and turn it in on him, and he rolls away, screamin' like a girl. No offence," he added as an afterthought, considering his audience and prime demographic "anyhow, the others start to make for the door but like fuck am I gonna let them get away after they made me waste my beer, so I pick up my 'bow," at this point he picked up his crossbow in order to gift authenticity to the story, pointing it at some invisible fish demon opposite him. Doctor Shocks looked rather nervous at this development, considering he was opposite the teenager and didn't trust him with the weapon at the best of times. "So I point it at the first one and I say, 'Where's the fire?' and then," he tensed his finger on the trigger, raising his arm to face the ceiling as if the crossbow had the same kick as a Magnum .45 revolver, then lowered the arm. The several thousand nerves in Adrian Shocks' body relaxed for the shred of a moment the crossbow was away from him but the screams of 'run' and 'duck' and the occasional 'throttle him' throughout his Central Nervous System returned like unwelcome house guests who you just know are going to ruin your new carpet with mud and vomit and in the case of that old Mr Yarnsley from up the road, feces.

"And the second one's up against the wall, like a little girl," he aimed the crossbow with a 'Blue Steel' stare that would have put Ben Stiller to shame (and possibly hang himself) "he's begging for mercy but I ain't gonna give it. . .ain't how I roll, y'know? And I look him in the eye and say. . ." in Erik's head, everything else seemed to go quiet as if he were in a movie "WHY SO SERIOUS?" He wasn't sure why he'd chosen that. It didn't even suit his imagined scenario, nor did it seem witty or clever, but in those moments he had panicked and blurted the first thing that came to his head-- he didn't even know the source material. Erik had seen the phrase written on a T-shirt once under a freaky red smile and creepy dark eyes in a bank and had thought it cool.
However, he had caught himself up in the excitement of the moment and had squeezed a little too hard. With a sound of air being displaced and moved aside, the crossbow bolt loosed with speed enough turn a running rabbit into a red mist in the direction of Doctor Shocks.

The next few things happened in the space of a few seconds.

Firstly, Adrian Shocks thought: Oh my stars and garters. I'm going to die. This is it. After twenty-six years of time on Planet Earth I'm going to die. Everything I've ever done and ever everything I was going to do is finito. I wonder if anyone will remember me? Will anything I've done be remembered? I'm sorry I told Mrs Maryland that Alfie Fredrickson took an extra biscuit in 2nd Grade when really it was me and I'm sorry that I ruined Daddy's church clothes and blamed it on the cat. OHGODIDON'TWANTTODIEEE.
This may be a slight embellishment on the part of the writer. A more accurate description of what someone would have actually had the time to have thought in the very very short amount of time it would have taken the crossbow bolt to pierce the soft, squishy grey thing (and the good Doctor would have insisted that it was grey and not pink-- after all, he was a physician) that controlled his everything would more likely be something along the lines of:
Damn.

Next, the crossbow bolt passed harmlessly over his head, admittedly by less than an inch from it, parting several hairs on its way though and lightly grazing the top of his head. The bolt passed on past his head and hit the door of the RV, where it shattered against the tough and monster-proof metal they had reinforced it with. It shattered into enormous splinters and small pieces of wood which fell to the floor, the tail spinning away miserably.
The bolt didn't think much of this and if it had, it would have most likely thought:
Well this is exciting.

Normality resumed.

Erik looked from the door, to the tail of the bolt resting forlornly at the top of the steps leading down to the door, to the white-as-a-sheet Adrian to the crossbow, to his hand. He paused for a moment, then dropped the weapon as if it were incredibly hot to the ground next to him.
Despite being seventeen years of age, had an almost overwhelming compulsion to point an accusatory finger at Caimen or Iali and say, "She did it!" However, thinking this might score him in even more trouble than he would be with Tom in the immediate future, he resisted the urge and simply let his wide eyes slowly fall back to the physician, who was staring into space as he had been a minute ago, only now considerably more intently.

Doctor Shocks slowly raised a shaky hand to his head and plucked a hair from the top of his scalp, lowering it to his face. As his eyes finally got the thing into focus after much confusion, blurring everything else, he could see that he hair was split down the middle, something he was aware that without something thinner than a needle or a microlaser was impossible.
He began to laugh.
And soon the laughter became either infectious, or Erik was simply trying to desperately turn what had seemed to him like a death sentence from the Scotsman into a light-hearted situation where everyone got out fine, without any scaldings or strict-tellings-to or even worse, crossbow-confiscations.

The fear was always with you, Doctor Shocks thought mildly through the surreal mirth, but sometimes, just sometimes, you could forget it.

[Asila]

As entertaining as Erik's story was, he happened to make it a little bit difficult for the female members of his audience to listen without taking offense. Iali, being the patient, self-charged keeper of the peace in their motley crew managed to keep the taint of her slight irritation from her amused expression. Caimen, on the other hand, tensed, narrowed her eyes, and began to mutter things like "I bet I could make you scream like a 'girl'" under her breath. Over-competitive with anything male, that one.

Lucky for Erik, Caimen forgot her annoyance once the misfired crossbow and it's shattering arrow silenced all of them for a few breathless seconds. This time, the teen had outdone himself. That was quite the finale. Not exactly approved by those of the group who valued their life, but impressive nonetheless.

For as long as the shocked silence reigned, Tom's expression was inscrutable. He did not move, not even to breath or adjust the smallest muscle in his face into a legible expression. It was only when Adrian began to laugh that he chose to react, and since he stared at their werewolf companion for a long moment beforehand, that reaction was suspicious. To say the least.

So, when the Scotsman begin to howl with laughter, Caimen exchanges a look with her sister and immediately leaves her seat, intending to get as far away from this meltdown as the RV would allow. She'd already met her confrontation quota for the day. This was just too much. Iali, on the other hand, holds her ground beside Erik and waits.

"Clever, lad." Tom gasps the words through his laughter. "What a way tah add excitement tah a story!" He stops laughing so abruptly that it would seem as though a heavy wall had slammed down before the mirthful tide he'd previously been expressing. His expression is murderous as he rises with a slow, predatory motion to his feet. "There's nothin' quite like riskin' the lives of your friends tah add excitement tah the story, now is there?" He captures the unfortunate teen's gaze with a piercing stare that demands an answer.

[Rojo]

The laughter inside the RV dies down in levels, starting with Tom's sudden venomous glare.
After a moment, Erik noticed the signficant lack of Scottish, hearty guffawing in the cacophony of Adrian's hysterical, almost insane laughter and his own, obnoxious mix of snorting and sharp intakes of breath. He stopped laughing, a few outlying 'heh heh's trying desperately to hang on to the good thing they'd had going.
Suddenly in the place of the laughing, mirthful Scotsman was a tall, dark and frightening man. He was the sort of man who if you were walking with your mother she'd make you cross the road and heighten your pace.
Tom towered over Erik in his seat, making the boy sink lower into the sofa, pressing himself into the material, as if hoping that it would open up and swallow him whole, taking him away from that horrible gaze which you wanted so desperately to break but could not look away.

Doctor Shocks was the last to stop laughing, his voice calming to a silence. His cheeks ached and there were tear streaks through the grime he had acquired from the burning house. He looked at the hair and then slowly and delicately placed it on the table.
Adrian looked at Tom's dark and imposing form, stood over the boy like a grim spectre, making Erik squirm just with his prescence. He blinked a few times again, feeling a little bit sorry for the boy.
"Tom, I don't thi-" he began, but was interuppted.
"It was an accident!" Erik blurted out hurriedly, almost at a shouting volume. He said it with the indignant voice of a teenager who is fighting a losing argument, pulling reasons and explainations, forgive the term, out of his arse "I was just telling the story and I didn't know what was happening and my finger slipped!"
Gone was the bravado, the mystique and the ego and all that was left was a boy who was confused and afraid. For all he knew, Tom would kick him out, put him out on his ear and leave him there by the side of the road, or perhaps he would even raise his hand to him. Nobody really knew-- the man could change his demeanour in a matter of seconds, making him hard to read.
Adrian looked on, watching for the next move. If anything got of hand he would object but for now-- he'd wait and see.

[Asila]

Tom was not at all moved by the boy's fear, though he did acknowledge it as a step in the right direction. However, that misfired arrow had triggered a flood of cold anger that had been building up in reaction to the unceasing incompetency of certain members on his team, and it was too late to re-erect the busted dam of his tolerance now. The card game was no longer an option.

And fear was not good enough. "Yah could have accidentally killed our physician!" He yelled in thunderous frustration, then paused, struggling for control of his temper with little success. When he spoke again, he managed to subdue his voice but not the fury within it. "We seem tah have a problem, lad. Threats comin' from inside the group are inexcusable. Now, if you have a deathwish, that is your business, but doona project that foolishness ontah any other member of this group." He keeps his hard gaze on Erik for a long moment, immovable. "Watch yourself carefully, lad. If you have one more accident like that one, I'll take your bow." His voice grew lower, became cruel. "And if you cannah be trusted with a weapon, you are of no use tah me or anyone else in this miserable vehicle."

Having heard enough of this, Iali rises to her feet. "There is no need to be cruel, Tom." She says frostily. "I would think that anyone who could tolerate my sister could forgive a mere mistake. It's wrong of you to single Erik out like this."

"Your sister" Tom snarls, furious that his authority has been challenged, "is the one member of this group with a confirmed death-wish, and is not my responsibility until the day that her brand of insanity endangers the rest of us. And when that happens, Iali, you can trust that I'll end that problem as well."

Iali remains silent for so long that Tom turns his attention back to Erik, believing her challenge to be through. "What do you have to say for yourself-"

"Did she tell you that?" Iali hissed the words, her naturally fierce gaze spitting fury. "Because let me tell you something, Tom, I am so sick of hearing everyone tell me that she's insane! And to hear you say that she wants to die-" Here Iali makes a wordless sound of frustration "Well, if that's what you think you haven't been paying attention. She has become the way she is to survive." Having said that, she has nothing more to say, but still she remains.

It seemed that making the situation even more awkward for everyone had successfully diverted Tom's furious rampage from Erik, for he was now staring at Iali as though he now thought that she was as unbalanced as the rest of them. And broadcasting that kind of silent judgment took a few moments of silent, intense staring.

[Rojo]

The RV's light-hearted, friendly atmosphere had frozen like ice into this now cold, hostile place that neither Erik nor Adrian wanted to be.

The former did something he would have never done in plain view of a female-- he shrunk back, tucking his legs up to his chest, eyes gaunt and sunken, looking terrified as child, eyes looking up at Tom as it wasn't Tom he was actually seeing, but someone else. . .someone like him. . .
He looked between Iali and the Scotsman, feeling small and scared. It was all his fault and he had spoiled everything-- only trying to look cool, being stupid, being a dumb little shit.
Erik yelped slightly at this last thought, looking around himself wildly, putting his hands over his head and tucking it into his knees as he began to experience some sort of deep personal trauma unrelated to the current situation but trigged by something in it. He began to rock slightly, oblivious to the situation outside his own head.

Doctor Shocks, on the other hand, was stood in the middle ground of Tom and Iali, albeit stood out of the way so they could make eye contact, their gazes met as if there were a cold steel rod connecting their eyes that no one could see, its freezing temperature radiating into the rest of the room, chilling him as they were suddenly all at eachother's throats.
Erik appeared to have retreated into himself-- another one of the many reasons he had to believe that the boy secretly had a few confidence issues (along with the never-ending self-inflation). It irked him that Tom would not see this and dig into him all the same-- clearly the boy was insecure, as all teenagers his age were. Adrian remembered all too well his own 'awkward' period. Of course, at the same time he had been waking up in fields covered in sheep's blood and as such his teen years were understandably more traumatic than most, but this was deriding from the point.
The physician decided he would have to take the plunge and try and play peacemaker. He stepped forward.
"Now I think everyone should just calm down. . ." he said in a calm but stern voice, like a mother who is trying to seperate two of her children who are fighting "we cannot function as a group if we are fighting amongst ourselves." He shook his head in disbelief.
"How can we be expected to fight the threats from out there," he pointed out through the window at the back of the RV, where sunlight was now pouring in in cloudy lemonade rays through the drawn curtains "when we're too busy being a threat to eachother in here!" He looked between them, a little angrily, but unsure of himself-- he was never really good with this. His expression became defiant.
"Now, I'm going to put the kettle on and make a cup of hot choccy," it was what his mother had called it and he had never seen reason to call it anything else. He looked at them both warningly "does anybody else want one?" he glowered with a fierece expression that said 'if you two don't make up right now there is going to be a serious lecture.'

[Asila]

Adrian's calm, stern tone was the remedy. The effect would not set in immediately, as Tom and Iali were each too engaged in their stare-down to acknowledge him, but as he continued the tension in both of their forms would ease up slightly, like as almost imperceptible shudder. Iali is the first to back away, as she has absolutely no desire to cause any misery, however defensively she may feel. As Adrian finishes and offers them the tantalizing prospect of hot chocolate in his cozy slang for the item, she successfully puts the unfortunate confrontation behind her and moves on. "I would love one, Adrian." She says tiredly. "Thank you." She doesn't tell him that he is right, because doing so would be redundant. It is obvious to both of them that he is.

Tom, however, could not let his frustration go as easily. "I doona want anythin' right now beyond a large dose of solitude." He informs them all gruffly. If he could have gotten over his anger as quickly as Iali, then he wouldn't have been very angry in the first place. He jerks his zipper to the top of it's track and stalks to the RV door. "If you need me for somethin', reconsider." He warn gruffly, favoring them all with one last piercing look. Then he steps outside, the door slamming loudly behind him.


"Aaaand he's gone!" Caimen enters the kitchen from the short hallway leading into the RV's one formal room, her eyes as bright and cheerful as her tone was upbeat. If her expression was any indication, she had conveniently managed not to here the better half of what had went down in the kitchen after she had left. She plops on the bench next to Erik and elbows him playfully in his ribs with perfect disregard for his traumatized withdrawal. "You know, I appreciate Tom's drive and everything, but sometimes that guy just has a monumental stick up his ass." She nudges the teen again. "Am I right, or what?"

"Two hot chockies over here, Adrian!" She says in his lingo, lifting her hand high into the air to flag him down as one might a bartender. In the background, the cheerfully rebellious sound of The Distillers becomes audible once again as the tension fades away.

[Rojo]

The physician stared after Tom as he left in a huff, shaking his head and looking up as Caimen re-entered the kitchen, looking oblivious to any of the tension that had been building up in the room and indeed Erik's reclusion.
Despite the events, Adrian smiled as the girls made their inquiries as to their own hot chocolate-flavoured beverages and he made his way over to the silver-coloured plastic kettle, moving it over to the sink and filling it with water. He placed the kettle back in its cradle and flicked the button, setting off a dim orange light near the base of the appliance. He held up an arm to open the cupboard where the hot chocolate powder dwelt.

Something mumbled from under the heavy green coat next to Caimen. Slowly, the physician turned to look at the hunched form of Erik, curled up into the foetal posistion, only a shock of red hair visible.
"Erik?" The doctor enquired in the cautious tone of someone who is quite worried but also aware the person they are worried about could fly off the handle. "Did you say something?"
At first there was no reply, then just as Adrian was about to go back to fixing the four of them a 'hot choccy' there was another mumble from under the coat, something with a definite 'ee' sounding to whatever word it was Erik was trying to convey through to them through his own flesh.
Adrian rolled his eyes, getting a little impatient with the boy. "Look, Erik, I can't understand what you're saying if you insist on saying it into your knees," he told the boy in the parental tone he had used a moment ago.
Erik raised his head just enough to show everyone a flash of head that was his forrid.
"Three."
The word rose into he air like a soggy piece of cardboard, full of self-pity and misery. For a moment it took the physician a moment to cotton on to what Erik meant, then he gave an enlightened expression and nodded contentedly.
"Three hot chockies, hold the frowns," he told the world, turning back to the cupboard and taking down the brightly-coloured tin (all the best ones came in tins) with a mug of cocoa stylized on the front, smiling at the consumer and saying: "HOLD THE FROWNS-- EXTRA BROWNS!" This was Marketing Department language for: double chocolate. A sure cure for any frowny face anyone between the ages of 4 and 20 could make. Adrian required a little help, but his penchant for the particular brand often gave him a small boost.

The physician produced four mugs, each with more and more ridiculous illustrations or cheesy jokes written in bubble typeface (one which said 'SEX BOB-OMB' with an illustration of a bomb with rather unrealistic yellow feet, a large key in its back and wearing an outlandishly large pair of sunglasses) and put five heaped teaspoonfuls into each of the mugs, which was one more than the recommended-- for the extra frown-damper. Convieniently, the kettle's switch announced the water was done boiling with a small 'click!' and Adrian opened the skylight-- Erik kept telling everyone how he planned to plant a ballista on the top of the RV and use the skylight as a gunner placement at some point, though how he'd even fit it through there was anyone's guess --to allow the steam to flow out into the cool air of the outisde before shutting it again. He poured the boiling water into the mugs and stirred them thoroughly before taking them over (Two on each hand, as anyone who drinks hot beverages with friends and family often knows how to do) to the table and placing them down before the others.
Then, as an afterthought, he took the squirty whipped cream aerosol from the fridge and gave everyone a little dollop of cream in their hot choccy. Yet again, this was a testament to the great mothering skills of Mrs Shocks, who was indeed, despite her academic profession, a true mother at heart.
Having finished his small task, Adrian sat down at one end of the table, sighing ant taking his mug in both hands, looking over at Erik.

[Asila]

The sisters accept their drinks gratefully. Or Iali accepts hers gratefully, with a smile and a thank you. Caimen looks like an drug addict who's just been offered crack in a mug as she pulls her drink toward her with a huge grin. She lifts the mug to her nose, inhales deeply as though she were seriously trying to snort the chocolatey liquid, but then abruptly sets it back down to cool as she begins to jam to the next track on her CD. The table was trembling in response to her enthusiasm. She was pretty hyper for someone who had almost died.

But that was how she always was. The more fucked up things got, the happier and more enthusiastic she became. It was one twisted defense mechanism. According to the normies, anyway. She didn't take average people seriously. They hadn't known the world she'd known. Didn't know the rules. The truth was, Caimen didn't just know how to survive. She knew how to live a full life in survival mode. That was a gift.

Iali is unperturbed by her sister's strangely excited enthusiasm over the little things in life. It was something she'd gotten used to a long time ago. She is considering Erik with a worried expression. Yet even Iali, who considers herself a fantastic mediator in their unruly group, doesn't quite know how to address the damage that's been done, here. What could she say that would make him feel better?

As Iali and Dr. Shocks consider Erik, Caimen pauses in her jam session and considers them. She frowns. Really, they were all taking this way too seriously. "Don't let Tom get to you. You especially, Erik. He's just a cranky old man." She says old as though Tom were actually old, even though middle-aged didn't qualify for the adjective. "He was probably raised in an authoritarian, creepy religious family and hates us because we're young and therefor innately stupid."

A surprised snort escapes Iali. "Oh, that's rich. How could you possibly know what our glorious leader's problems are?"

Caimen glances at her and shrugs. "I've learned something of psychology through the years. It's an educated guess."

((I'll reference Tom in my next post. He's off reflecting elsewhere for now.))

[Rojo]

Anyone worth their salt who has ever come into prolonged contact with a child knows the rejuvinating effects of a hot cocoa-flavoured beverage. So despite his familiarity with the process, it was still fascinating for Adrian to watch the effects of the drink on Erik. As Caimen began her energetic rumblings, the drink slowly vibrated its way a few inches in random directions on the table. Dr Shocks clenched his own mug, watching Erik with the same interest one might watch a flower slowly open or an ant's nest. Like the turning of the tide and the rising of the moon, the hot chocolate soon began to effect the moping teen.
At first, his legs came down from their balled-up position supporting his legs but rather oddly, his arms did not yet leave his face. Instead, he leaned forward, allowing himself to lean on the table, raising his head slightly-- behind the mass of red hair, eyes flickered towards the mug, delicious steam rising and tantalizing Erik's nostrils. Slowly, yet deliberately, like a growing tree, the boy unfolded one arm, swivelling the other around to cover his face. Grasping the mug firmly in one hand he reeled it in closer to his face, lifting his head cautiously so as to take a sip from the mug. However, rather than following the logical conclusion and bringing the mug to his face, Erik brought his face down to the hot, steamy, whipped cream-y liquid.
There were a few moments, then slowly. . .very slowly, the young hunter raised his head properly and brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking shiftily around at his fellows as if expecting them to explode involuntarily. He shuffled his posterior forward so his posture was not so spine-bending and leaned up on elbows, completely unaware of the cream moustache he now sported on his upper lip. Erik sniffed once, raising a crusty sleeve and wiping his nose and mouth. His eyes were red and so were his cheeks, as if he had been crying but had hurriedly tried to hide this fact. The boy slowly raised his hot choccy to his mouth and took a sip, relaxing a little more into his usual lax, judgemental-of-everything-around-him look. There was not so much as a thank you, nor was there a disdainful comment of the quality of the hot chocolate. That was a small blessing at least.
The transformation was complete. Erik had returned.

Dr. Shocks smiled warmly and broadly, drinking some more of his of his own heated chocolate beverage, having mastered the art of drinking without inducing cream moustache status long ago. He was glad that all seemed to be right again for the moment with the young boy, but where had Tom got off too? Adrian supposed that the fellow hadn't gone far, but you never could tell- for all the good doctor knew, Tom could have decided to sod the lot of them and hike off to that town by himself. He shook his head slightly and leaned back, eyes flickering down the corridor to the calendar once more and his mind pulled back to those morbid, dark thoughts with all the might and gravity of a black hole. He stared into nothingness for a moment, considering what they'd have to do.
The werewolf sighed, it was a good thing they had those steel manacles. . .still, what happened when the manacles broke? What then?
Then I kill all of them answered a voice in his head. He liked to think sometimes that the wolf was a different part of him, that it was something different that he could seperate clearly from himself and who he was. . .but this was a comforting lie. There was no 'alter ego.' There was just him. You couldn't personify something as animalistic and and primal as that, you couldn't give it a voice. It was a part of you and you were a part of it.
And sometimes you forget which is hidden inside of which. . . he thought darkly. But he chided himself for being so dramatic and shook himself both mentally and physically, looking at his companions. So young. . .
Erik had returned to his old self rather readily, the empty mug sitting forlorn and alone on the table. He inspected it and licked the whipped cream off the rim before looking uninterestedly at the others.
"I'm getting another Dew," he announced, his first words in a while, then proceeded to remove himself from his seat and make good on his word, returning with the opened can, smug, self-satisfied expression on his face. He placed another can on the table, eyes locked onto it like a hawk as if anyone might DARE and attempt to take it.