Unnnnn-fortunately, but, well… hardly unexpectedly?
He stood there, leaned up in an easy, half-hangin’ slump to where he gripped a jail-cell bar in each fist, grinnin’ with anticipation at some kindova show - the general joy of observation, as it often-a went for him - with the sole of one shoe alternatingly bouncing his leg in the air and bluntly, bluntly ‘drilling’ in slowwww-swingin’ turns against the ground beneath him.
For now? A whole lot of nothing didn’t exactly… not count as something to observe! Something to sit there knowin’ from a place of lofty schadenfreude about - checkin’ in on someone just all huddled still elicited the obligatory starting response of ‘awh - you ain’t havin’ much fun in there, are ya – ? Awwwwh… Awwwwwh!!’, even if it wasn’t as eventful as seein’ someone try to choke down the shittiest-it-had-ever-been fare up for supper in this fuckin’ residence.
He was, in fact, all smiles.
And hell - the goddamn… coals of smugness were only warmin’ in his chest to turn it up higher, a little bit at a time, even with her freakin’ not-gonna-humor-that sittin’-all-tucked-up-…ness, up until…!
And on the dot, his brow ticked ever-so-slightly raised and furrowed, mouth forming a tiny just-rounded shape.
A ‘huh – …’ at hearing something that you weren’t quite hoping to hear.
His brow raised higher, unknitting, as he pulled himself harder against his side of the bars on one end, streeeeeeetchin’ his height out diagonally, voice comin’ in, likewise, with a subtle, stretchin’ creak out as it swelled…!
“ …IIIIIII only figured it was right a’ me to keep on checkin’ in to see how the accommodations are holdin’ up – …! ”
Iiiiiiiin spite of himself, his grin bit ‘n flexed tight as he pushed the word ‘accommodations’ out a bit too heavy - just part of a spiteful-ass snicker the edge a’ which still held tight under his ribs.
He slumped his weight further against the bars; hung heavier and flatter, while he nodded up ‘n let it drop, with a mechanical one-two just-short-of-sharp rhythm to it, as his voice keened in more concentrated. Sharper.
“ Stiiiill ain’t feelin’ homey enough to get into the routine a’ shit like supper – ” Another semi-mechanical if vague nod to the plate loosely piled with rancid colors and oilslick gleam as his eyes passed to it, then back… “ - ehh, Mommy – ?! ”
Needling a biiiiiiit particularly high at the end…!
Mrs. Favorite of the Fucked-Up Baby Duckling – !
❝ I’m not your Mommy. I’m not Evie’s, and I’m not Zoe’s. I’m no one’s. You know, If Evie REEEALLY wanted me to stay, she wouldn’t have you guys cage me up like an animal. ❞ She muttered, crossing her arms. ❝ So, when are you going to finally fucking kill me? two days, three? let me starve to death? What’s your plan this time, Mr. Baker. ❞ She knew he didn’t really like being called that, and she wanted to tempt fate. Death would be fine by now.
blakekathryn
snowghoul
origamiaround
dededos
prguitarman
