#3rd long

-

Growling in frustration, Christophe finally decided to stop fucking around. He grabbed Cartman’s forearms and muscled him to the ground, not bothering to use his legs until the large boy was twisted uncomfortably. Christophe knew it wouldn’t be long before his hip flexers started to cramp, and he grinned into Cartman’s face. “Dumbass,” he hissed, and freed his foot the moment he felt Cartman’s leg relax a fraction. Then it was simply a matter of pressing his knees into the soft bits of Cartman’s leg muscles, effectively keeping him in place. “Don’t fucking fuck wiz me.”

-

Raven

Raven pushed in through the doors of one of the overly conformist goody restaurants, glancing over the lights and people and trying to drown out the inappropriate hits of"S&M" Rihnna dance music to go along with those inside stuffing their faces. Not that he couldn't admit to himself it was one of the better of Rhinna's songs, on another day. He seemed to be looking for someone, picking out through people in the crowd, standing just across from the doorway.

kenny mccormick

Nothing rounded out a long night of not drowning in a pond like a balanced breakfast of MSG ridded breakfast burritos from the nastyass fast food place down the street, and Kenny unwrapped his second one of the morning - afternoon, whatever - and took a bite, too focused on food to bother looking around at all the guards and other assorted assholes also enjoying their weekly dose of sodium.

Raven

Once eventually the goth picked Kenny out from the crowd, predictably stuffing his face with the rest of the herd, he pushed out along the thread of different people and slipped abruptly into a seat across from the blond, eyes still seemingly indifferent and cold. "Enjoying your breakfast?"

kenny mccormick

Kenny glanced up, corner of his mouth quirking up for a second before looking back down at his food and shoving a massive bite into his mouth. "Yup, fucking delicious, thanks for asking."

Raven

"Good." Raven's gaze held on the other boy's, sounding typically flat. After a long second of watching Kenny continue to eat he reached into his pants pocket, uncurling a small bag and tossing it across the table without a word. Inside was a good nugget of marijuana.

kenny mccormick

Not that Kenny was the kind of dude to pass up free drugs or anything, but he just looked back up at Stan, eyebrows wandering up his face curiously. "Fuck's this for?"

Raven

"Apology." He said, shortly, still his gaze rather flat, not wavering as he looked at the other. "For the other night."

kenny mccormick

"Man, shouldn't that shit be going to Hen in that case?" Still eating, he reached out for the bag anyway, dropping it onto his tray with his hashbrowns and whatever the fuck this was trying to pass itself off as coffee

Raven

He continued looking at the other, studying him for a second without speaking right away. "...She's why I'm here." He admitted, eventually. And with another short pause, he continued, "Where I'm from you're a conformist goody douchebag. Either way. I'm not sure what to expect here. And maybe. Hanging out with conformists is the only way for some of us to cope."

kenny mccormick

"Yeah?" Looking thoughtful for a second, Kenny just shrugged, stuffing the weed into his jacket pocket with a grin. "That's cool. Anyway douchebag at least sounds about right so whatever, dude. Just don't be a fuckass to Henny since she tolerates everybody's asses for some godfuck reason."

Raven

"I know." There's a hint of honesty in his otherwise dull words, looking off blankly to the remainder of Kenny's food. "She's tolerated us for a long time. I'm not sure why." On a dead pause he eventually looks up again. "But I guess I should at least. Try to do the same."

kenny mccormick

"Damn, dude, good life lesson there. Good luck with that, like, seriously." Waving grandly at his tray, Kenny shrugged. "Want some food? This coffee tastes like fucking burnt and hate, that's how you guys like it, right?"

Raven

He shook his head, but gave something on a slight smile, gaze however still dull. "I just came to apologize. I can say a place like this wouldn't serve real coffee. Poor conformist substitute, just like their food." He looks off. "....But." And he gives into another pause. "....Thanks." There's a real strain despite himself on the words, not staring directly at Kenny as he speaks.

kenny mccormick

"Well, dude, thanks for the weed and shit, for real," Kenny said back, graciously going back to stuffing his mouth to try and make this less uncomfortable for Stan's ego, grinning a tiny bit around the edges as he did

Raven

Raven nodded somewhat before getting back to his feet. "...Also." The boy seems to add eventually, "Before I leave, I would...watch out for Judas if I were you. Your "friend" seems to be having....a hard time accepting the realities in life. Pain can be a good instigator to denial."

kenny mccormick

"Man, Kyle's tougher than all you guys really like, give him credit for, y'know?" Shaking his head, Kenny sighed, a little, and propped his chin on one hand to look up at Stan. "But dude keeping an eye on all you jerks is kinda my whole thing, half the fucking time."

Raven

Raven nodded again to the other, as if accepting that point somewhat. "Alright...Well then...have a good "meal," McCormick." He says, eventually, bowing his head slightly. "I'll...see you around. I guess."

kenny mccormick

 Cartman was at a breaking point. The pizza was gone, the coke was gone, Wendy was gone, Kyle was gone, and his sanity was nearly gone by that point. There was only two things that kept him from jumping out the window, one: killing Stan, and two: the prospect of Kenny bringing him beer. As always, Kenny intervened JUST IN TIME and Eric definitely needed the booze to get his mind off of the current onslaught of homicidal thoughts flooding his head. Staring outside, he started to impatiently drum his fingers against the windowsill as the concert lights blared from Across the denver skyline.

-  Kenny kicked at the bottom of the hotel room door, not having a key and not about to put down all the shit in his hands even if he did.  Shifting the pack of beer in one hand, he tried knocking again with the back of a wrist, calling as he did.  "Dude, lemme in, I got beer and porn.  You want lesbian action or deepthroat sluts?" 

From down the hall a door cracked open and some woman popped her head out, disapproving look vanishing as she saw who it was.  Kenny just rolled his eyes, knocking one last time.  "Tonight, dude, I'm thirsty!"

-  Sighing heavily, Eric made his way to the door and swung it open to allow his best friend entry. "Deepthroats for sure, but Jesus Christ just hand over the beer." He answered, glaring out into the hallway before asking. "Just who is Stan's accountailbuddy, anyway? What room are they in?"

-  "Fuck if I know!" Kenny shot back cheerily, pushing inside and pretty much forcing Eric inside before him.  "We're gonna drink the shit out of this stuff dude hope you appreciate it I went against family tradition and got some kind of fucking," lifting one of the packs, he peered at the label, "Jennifer Lawrence 90 Minute IPA.  And I'd fuck her, so it's gotta be good."

-  Disgruntled as all fuck, Eric threw himself onto the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "She'd probably fuck you too because YOU'RE not involved in some fucking LOVE SQUARE where you get COCKBLOCKED from all fucking sides!" He seethed, kicking the nightstand before scrunching his face up in disgust. "I can't believe you don't see the fucking injustice that just occured here."

-  "Didn't say I didn't suck, man, just that this shit was coming from a fucking mile away."  Kicking the door shut behind himself, Kenny grinned and put down the load in his arms, pulling out two beers and hooking the two caps together, twisting expertly and opening them.  "Man, I fucking lost my opener last night too.  Here."  He handed one over, taking a long sip of his own.

-  Eric graciously took the beer, downing nearly half of it before turning to the hotel's TV to make sure it had a DVD player. "You should get Christophe or I to hold your fucking stuff then, like, I could totally hold your phone for you... do you still have that?"

-  "Dude what fucking good's my phone gonna do in your pocket, for real.  Why the fuck do you think I just get shitty prepaid ones from the gas station."  Laughing a little, he flopped on the unoccupied bed, kicking his shoes across the room and tossing the stack of DVDs over. 

-  "I could like, take messages for you while your gone and stuff, whatever!" Eric responded, cursing at himself for the foiled "Pretend I'm Kenny and meet Stan somewhere secluded" plan. Taking the deepthroat porn DVD out of the box, he rolled out of the bed and fumed over to the TV to get it started. "But seriously Kenny, this might be a job for /you know who/. I don't think that Stan's the Stan we all know and love. Like, Stan's a douche - for sure. But this is DOUBLE douchery if he's all making out with my current girlfriend and then going off to date Kyle in the same fucking swoop. " He exhaled, turning on the menu before giving Kenny a determined look. "I think something's going on, I think we need to take him out."

-  "Voldemort's not gonna kill Stan for you, dumbass."

-  Just as he was about to press play, Eric scoffed and simply chucked the remote at Kenny. "NOT VOLDEMORT, YOU FUCKHEAD. Fucking... one of us!" He gestured to the two of them, his eyes blaring and wild. "It's been a while since we pulled out the old costumes, but I think given the circumstances, and the fact that we're on fucking TV, we might actually be able to make USE of our secret identities now!"  Diving next to Kenny, he finally pressed play before waving his hand out in front of them. "Just imagine it, Coon and Mysterion taking out all the miserable fucks on this planet to save the awesome and cool people! It'll be hella cool! That way, the universes that the miserable have to go home to would be better off and WE'D be better off too!"

-  Kenny caught the remote easily, pressing play himself before tossing it back in a way that was way less like a fucking two year old tantrum.  Rolling his eyes, he took a long sip of his beer, vague buzz from earlier kicking back pleasantly.  "Dude for real stop talking about killing Stan, that's not gonna do shit.  Except totally blow your chances with both of them.  But hey, you wanna fuck Evan, that might actually work."

-  Horrified, Eric abruptly pushed Kenny to the side before nursing more of his beer. "So what are we going to do about it? LET this shit continue while us NORMAL people do all the fucking work? HELL NO!" He argued, turning to the TV once the typical corny music started to play. "If WE'RE going to be the ones busting everyone out, then WE should be the ones who get all the fucking perks!"

-  "Drink your beer, dude, you're making about as much sense as Kevin on Meth."  Drawling, Kenny focused on drinking the rest of his beer, only half watching the screen and waiting to be drunk so the whole situation would be less brainmeltingly fucking stupid.

-  "Kevin on meth tried to eat his fucking hand." Eric pointed out rather plainly, leaning into the side of Kenny's face as he continued to drink. "Me trying to save us all from the EMBARRASSMENT that is Stanley Fucking Marsh is a whole other story. I mean, you should have seen him during the dinner! He almost FUCKED IT UP for all of us and Yates almost had to escort him out of the room! He's a fucking threat! Why does NO ONE see this?!

-  "

-  "Sounds like he got busted then.  Don't see your ass in detention or whatever the fuck they call it over it, though, so why the fuck do you care, man?  Besides that Kyle wants his dick and you don't like competition, 'cause that's a shittyass reason to kill somebody dude."  Kenny just shook his head, ignoring Cartman's face all pressed up close like this was a goddamn cuddlefest or shit.  "Even if it wasn't you need to drink your shit and calm down and deal with shit tomorrow when you're not strung out on pms or whatever."

-  Pausing for a moment, Eric continued to linger an inch away from the side of Kenny's face, staring at him like a fucking hawk before silently tilting his head to the side to take another calming sip. "We're not in detention now, but we might be! Think about how ROYALLY he might screw up our HQ plan? Just like he did the last one! I don't think you're getting the big picture here Ken. This isn't about me anymore, it's about the greater good." He assured, finishing his bottle before continuing onto the next one. "In fact, I think we should pay him a visit tonight!"

-  Kenny shoved Cartman's leg with one heel, not ungentle as he sighed.  "Dude, no.  First off, he's probably not even there and you're gonna wake up G-dawg and she'll throw a knife at your face and then where are we gonna be, dude, face wounds suck balls.  And I want to get drunk and watch porn and he'll be alive later so you need to just calm your fucking tits and chill out for one fucking night."

-  "Oh so Gdawg is his accountabilibuddy? Sweet." Eric replied, getting out his phone to text a certain KinderGoth a text.

-  Kenny rolled his eyes over the edge of his beer bottle, lifting it up high and determined to just get through the whole thing at once.  If Eric wanted to get snapped at by baby goths that was better than running out the door with a fucking golf club or whatever.  Grabbing for the remote, he fiddled with the volume, not pausing his drinking for a second.

-  After a couple messaged, Eric playfully nudged Kenny's side before announcing. "Sweet, apparently she's on the same fucking page as me." He grinned, downing more of his beer so he could get drunke faster. "It's great that I've got the smart people on MY side. You just have to see the bigger fucking picture Ken. This is a matter of life or death."

-  "Who's riding your dick and whether they're on Stan's too is pretty much like, the opposite fucking thing from life or death, man.  I know you're fucking jelly and shit but you need to talk to Wendy and Kyle about not fucking other people like a grownup person not throw murder tantrums and shit.  Way uncool."

-  "YOU'RE way uncool!" Eric masterfully retorted, intentionally blocking Kenny's view of the screen so he could get his full attention this time. "It's life or death considering Stan doesn't give a fuck about anyone but himself! He'll probably rat us all out just because he doesn't like to lieeee to people or fucking... he doesn't want to put Kyle in dangerrrr. BULLSHIT!" He yelled, enraging himself beyond belief. There was no way he was going to let Stan continue to baby Kyle while making everyone suffer through his pansy-ass hangups. Getting up from the bed, he finished off the second bottle in one chug before throwing it down to the ground. "That's it, that bitch is dead. I don't care what you say Ken. You'll thank me in the long run."

-  "Man don't fucking throw shit in your own fucking hotel room--" Pausing, Kenny sighed dramatically, hauling himself up off the bed and crossing the few steps over towards his friend.  Christ, what a fucking night.  Reaching up, he put a hand across Cartman's face, pushing him back down towards the other bed before crossing his arms.  "Dude.  For fucking real.  Listen to me one fucking time and chill out.  You wanna go kill Stan in the morning, whatever, talk about that when we get there, but right fucking now you're going to just get your ass busted like a fucking dumbshit."

-  "mEEEEEH!" Eric cried as Kenny shoved him towards his bed, swatting at the other boy's hands as he faught to maintain his balance. "But I have to do it before we go back to South Park so he can't spoil any of our plaannnss MEEH!"

-  "Nobody's ruining anybody's plans except my plan to get drunk and watch porn tonight, dude," Kenny rolled his eyes, pushing a bit more just for good measure.  "He's gonna be in detention when we get back man what's he gonna do.  Be smart and use your time to fucking get in good with Kyle instead of ruining all your fucking chances with him 'cause you can't be fucking patient."

-  "But what if Kyle's with him right now and giving him head like that chick on the screeeeen?! I have to stop them NOW or else Kyle's going to ruin his life like he almost did back in my world! Don't you understand, Kenny?" Eric pawed at his friend's side, trying to move him out of the way so he could get to the door again. "Kinny? C'mon, it's like... Coon and Myseterion time! We've got to take out Toolshed before he hammers the Kike- I mean Kite!"

-  Kenny stood there, swaying slightly at all the batting going on and shaking his head, severely wishing he had something stronger than beer right now.  "I'm not doing superheroes with you dude, I'm not ten.  And you're just digging a worse fucking grave for yourself with that shit right now.  Stan's said that Kyle just wants to mess around and not have a relationship, or whatever, so like... just fucking ignore it or you're gonna set them both up against you and give them a fucking reason to get all lovey dovey, for real, have you like not been paying attention to the last fifteen years of life around them or some shit?"  Reaching behind himself without really moving from his spot, he pulled out another couple of beers, uncapping them and shoving one into Cartman's hands before he kept up the groping.

-  "I know, I KNOW. Lord knows I don't want them teaming up against me like they did during that fucking cult shit with the magic guy." Sniffing, Eric twisted off the cap of the next beer and just peered past his best friend at the screen. Apparently sentimental wouldn't work on Kenny,  but maybe free food would."Can we... order another Pizza at least? Here I'll go get it."

-  Kenny hiked up an eyebrow, not even bothering to look annoyed at how shitty an attempt that was.  At least he'd gotten some kind of fucking concession.  After a second, he grinned.  "Fuck that let's make fucking room service bring up like, fucking ice cream sunday bar on a cart thing dude that dickweed Yates is paying for all this shit anyway, yeah?"

-  Once the word "Ice Cream" left Kenny's lips, Eric was back to his one-track mind of spending as much money on junk food as humanly possible. "We. Will. Live. Like KINGS!" He cheered, grabbing a phone book and the directory, and looking through the numbers. "Okay Okay Okay okay... so what flavors do you want?" Taking another excited chug, he perused through a list and then jotted some numbers down. "I want to get a list going so we can make sure they bring everything we want!"

-  "Dunno, dude, whatever you want.  See if they'll bring up more beer and empty glasses, I want a fucking beer float."  Leaning over Cartman's shoulder, he tapped a the room service menu.  "And cheese fries, fuck yeah."

-  "Alright, its a done deal!" Eric cheered, suspiciously shifting his eyes for a second as he dialed in one of the numbers he looked up into the hotel phone. Taking out his "list", he whistled to himself until the phone picked up and then he started rolling out their "order" like a champ. "Hi! I'd like to place an order for /take out/. Yes, a round of /Rocky Roads/ to room number <not their hotel room> at the Airport Hilton. Extra Messy, and you get paid extra if you /bring the goods/ before midnight. I have black hair and a dopey face. Also cheese fries and booze."

-  Reaching forward and plucking the phone right out of Cartman's fingers, Kenny rolled his eyes and cradled it between his shoulder and chin, stepping away and lifting a hand up to block any return grabby-hands.  "Actually dude cancel that shit I don't have any money and probably ain't even there anyway so this was totally just a prank ass call!  Congrats you're on the fucking radio now say what's your favorite station and you get two tickets to Fingerbang, man."  Not even pausing to see if they were going to respond Kenny dropped the phone back in the reciever, turning and crossing his arms.  "Dude.  Dude."

-  Looking like a lost puppy, Eric just wibbled his lower lip and responded. "I was just trying to give the terrorists at the Mosque something to doooooo. It's like, a month before Ramadan they must be having their version of Mardi-Gras or somethinggg." He dove for the phone again, "Jokesies! Let's get ice cream!"

-  Kenny got it first, snatching it right up and holding it out and away from Cartman.  "Eric, for real, that's like.  Dude best friend free food on other dudes' dime is like, sacred ass rites and shit you can't pull bullshit with that."  Dialing 0 for the front desk, Kenny waited till the line picked up before glancing at Cartman.  "What'd you want, man?"

-  Pouting, Eric put on his best "Im so pissed off right now" face before huffing again and answering, "HEM... fine. Two double cheeseburgers, two cheese fries, 2 Liter coke, and two gallons of ice cream. Mint Chocolate Chip and Cookie Dough."

-  "And a six pack of PBR and some cheese fries and a bottle of the darkest rum you got for the scary lookin dude outside the door," Kenny finished off into the phone before dropping it into the reciever and promptly tossing himself back across the bed.  "You keep doing that dude your face is gonna stick like that."

-  Eric didn't falter. Kept on looking pissed once he realized WHO was standing out the door. "Even if I managed to escape, he would have tackled me, wouldn't he of?"

-  "Yup!  So aren't you glad you get to hang out with me and eat ice cream and watch all those lovelyass ladies on the TV?"  Grinning placidly, Kenny shrugged.

-  "Yeah..." Eric exhaled a long, exhausted stream of air again, settling next to Kenny on the bed as he watched one of the girls like something off another girl's face. Laughing, he shoved Kenny's shoulder again before pointing at the screen,  "You know one day, you might pop one of these in and it might be Karen and Ruby on the screen.

-  Kenny shoved him back, glaring.  "What the fuck dude that's not fucking funny why the hell would you say that shit, jesus titchrist, uncool, dude!"

-  Eric just laughed harder, "Admit it! It would be hot!"

-  "No it fucking wouldn't that's my fucking sister!"  Scowling, Kenny kicked him in the leg again, this time without any affection

-  "OWWW!" Eric cried, genuinely surprised that Kenny would actually HURT him just because of something he said! Grabbing onto his leg, he hugged it into his chest and proceeded to whine, "OWwww, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT! Can't you see I'm already in pain? You're SO INSENSITIVE! Now I get some of your fucking PBR!"

-  "Man don't talk about my sister like that seriously it's like, the one fucking thing," continuing to scowl for a second, Kenny lightened up, sighing and finally grinning.  "You drink the PBD dude you'll start to grow a mullet, dude."

-  Still groaning, Eric hissed through his teeth before responding with a smirk, "I would totally sport one better than you."

-  "Fuck that, dude, I got six generations of white trash grandpas saying my mullet is the biggest party in the back it's fucking possible to have without some hip hop backup dancers backing their shit up."

-  "No, fuck you! I've got NEBRASKA blood! Nebraska is like, where the mullet was FOUNDED!" Eric retorted, grabbing at the remote and rolling his fat onto Kenny's side. "Rewind this shit, I bet the guy fucking her mouth with the mullet is from Nebraska!"

-  "Nobody in the fucking world's fron Nebraska, dude, that state's got a population of like twenty people and fifteen of them are related to you," Kenny shot back, shifting to make room without thinking about it.

-  "I'm like a fucking prince there, so you better respect it." Eric shot back, but then something buzzed throughout their entire room, causing him to jump up in shock. "HOLY SHIT, What the fuck was that?"

-  "Room service?" Kenny asked, not really having the faintest fucking clue but figuring it was a good guess anyway.  "Man, better just be fucking room service, I just fucking got back if it's a fucking bomb or gunfire or whatever the fuck I'm gonna flip my shit."  Sliding off the bed, he walked towards the door, pausing a second before opening it to look.

-  On the opposite side of the door, a guy with a Fingerbang shirt nervously stood outside, waiting anxiously with the platter of food for his favorite band. Once the door opened, the dude nearly shrieked as he cheered, "Oh my god, Kenny. huuuuuuh Its really you! When I heard your voice over the phone I couldn't BELIEVE it so I threw in an extra case of PBR!" He shoved it at his idol nervously, hoping to score some indirect hand contact.

-  "Sweet, dude, thanks, totally appreciate it.  Uh..." Shoving the PBR under one arm and pulling the cart of food into the room, he patted down his pockets, coming up with some lint and half a pack of starburst.  "There you go, dude, sorry it's a shitty tip.  Still though, thanks!"

-  Reaching out as though he was about to grasp the holy grail, the boy generously took the lint and starburst from Kenny and muttered. "I will cherish this for as long as I live." Pocketing the starburst, he bowed again before slowly backing away from the door. "Oh one last thing, Sir Kenny, Uh... is it true that you and Chloe weren't on stage because you guys were, you know..." He whispered loudly, "/In the same hotel room?/"

-  "Man, you know, that's a really good question.  And I'd love to answer it, dude, but like.... don't wanna start any rumors, you know?  Miss Chloe's a pretty fucking lady it'd suck to have people talking about that."  Shooting the kid a wink, Kenny shut the door, turning and waving a hand at the stupidly huge amount of food that'd arrived.  "Here you go, dude.  Time to drown those feelings, hahahah."

-  Eric, however, was in no condition to respond to Kenny coherrantly. He was currently under the covers, curled up in a little ball and sniffling to himself as the porno continued to play. "Weeeeehehehehehhhhh no one loves meeeeee."

Kenny's eyebrows shot right up, face falling at the sad fucking mess there in the bed before he took a deep breath and swung into action. Snagging on of the ice creams, he peeled off the top and shoved it into Cartman's hands with a spoon. 

"Dude," he muttered, shoving himself onto the last free square foot on the bed and cracking open a PBR one-handedly, taking a sip and rubbing Cartman's shoulder with the other. "Bullshit and you know it."

-

"NO, IT'S NOT BULLSHIT!" Cartman yelled back, choking on his sobs through the sheets as he slowly creeped the ice cream into the sheets with him. "Wendy left me, Kyle left me, Christophe left me in HIS world, YOU probably left me. Everyone just doesn't understaaaand meeh. You guys only see what you want to see and not the truuuuth!" 

-

"Man how the fuck a I gonna leave anybody when I can't even afford gas for my car now you're being a dumbfuck," Kenny replied without any real heat, slouching back against the headboard and taking another drink. "Christophe left some dude, and your Kyle, dude, the actual guy you're dating, remember that shit, you think he's run off to go fuck what like, Tucker or somebody back home?"

It was straight up fucking impossible not to feel bad for that level of pathetic ass blubbering, and Kenny knocked his leg into Cartman's, sympathetically.  "One here's not the same guy, remember? Perspective, dude."

-

"The only person Tucker could ever bang is Tweek because he has equally stained and fucked up teeth." Eric immediately shot back, feeling a little better now that he was nose deep in ice cream and clearly more attractive that Craig Fucker.Coming out of the covered, he slid back up the headboard and gazed at the screen in time to see the guy blow his load on the girl's chest. "And, yeah, I know I have Kahl back in my world but... who the fuck knows! Maybe he thinks I'm DEAD." He stuffed his face with another scoop, talking with his mouth full. "We have to break into the fucking fourth floor and uncover more of those documents so we can uncode it." 

-

"Please, going off and dying quietly without a big shit show is way too fucking considerate for anyone to buy you doing." Finishing the can and tossing it towards the other side of the room, Kenny opened another. "But yeah man fuck all this waiting around. Go back, solve shit, pull the rubber mask off Yates and figure out he's Old Man Crocker, done and done dude be home before there's time for a victory smoke. So stop crying before this gets like, way too gay."

-

Eric's eyes lit up, the ice cream melting off is spoon as he stared deftly into his best friend's face. "You... really think Yates is just a guy wearing a mask?"

-

"Dude, I was making a joke, man, fucking Scooby Doo?  Just--" Chuckling a little bit, Kenny shook his head.  "Fuck of a realistic mask if it is man the dude looks legit to me."

-

"His moustache has always looked a little suspicious to me, not to mention he kind of looks like Jack Tenorman." Eric replied, closing his ice cream and fumbling over to the tray to possessively retrieve his cheeseburgers. "I smell a conspiracy." 

-

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Kyle made his way to Cartman's hotel room with his feet dragging the whole way there. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to him - he did, they had lots of things to talk about - but he was a little worried that their talk may turn sour before it even gets started. He mentally crossed his fingers that Cartman was both in a good mood /and/ in a good mindset today, even after the drama of last night. Holding his head up determinedly, he rapped on the door, quietly adding, “It’s me, Fatass. Open up.”

  Not wasting a moment, Eric rushed to the door and looked through the peephole. He saw red hair, but not the ugly red hair Scott was plagued with, rather the red hair that Eric was dying to rake his fingers through again. After opening the door, Eric tactfully pocketed his hands and held the door open with his foot, "I spent all last night talking to Christophe and thinking about what I'm going to do when I get back to South Park." He started off, letting Kyle in and following him inside. "Also, I've been pouring over the map to see if there's anything else we can check out here. Anything to get my mind off what happened..."

"What are you planning to do once we get back?" Kyle asked, trying hide a nervous gulp behind clearing his throat softly. "It's good that you're already moving on from that stunt Wendy pulled. I totally would have never expected that from her, dude, guard goals and parallel-selves aside." He made his way over to Cartman's bed and took a seat at the edge, crossing his arms over his chest. He was dressed rather casually, but still sported his white Fingerbang jacket. It was a testament to how much he'd enjoyed last night's performance; he'd been wearing it everywhere all day.

"I'm not too surprised" Eric answered truthfully, taking a seat on the floor and opening the pizza box to retrieve a rather large piece, carelessly stuffing it in his mouth before passing the rest of the box to Kyle. Washing it down with coke, he took a deep breath and continued to rant. "She dumped me for Stan, which is what she did in my world. I knew it would only be a matter of time, she didn't even give me a CHANCE. I moved to fast in my world, and too slow in this one. Apparently I can't do anything right." He grumbled, kicking the foot of the bed in frustration. "Of course fucking History would repeat itself no matter what world we live in..."

Kyle nodded in agreement, taking a slice for himself from the box before setting it back down in the floor between them. "It...yeah, it really does." He nibbled on his pizza, a thoughtful expression on his face, staying quiet for the moment. After a minute or two of looking lost and very nearly depressed, he finally perked up and added, "I wouldn't say you can't do /anything/ right," grinning mischievously down at Cartman.

Chucking back at Kyle, Eric returned the grin with a devilish smirk of his own. That's what Cartman needed to hear, and as he rested back onto his bed, he remembered what he wanted to discuss with Kyle in the first place. "That kiss was one of the best I've had in a while, by the way." He narrowed his eyes, stretching himself out in a very "come hither" manner. "And I could tell you certainly enjoyed it..."

Kyle nodded agreeably. "I did. That entire performance was just... I can't even describe it. I think I like the stage a lot more than I originally thought I would!" He laughed softly. "Guess I didn't stick with choir for no reason all through high school, huh?" He laughed again, but it had a melancholy twinge to it this time, and he gave Cartman a sympathetic smile as it faded. "Cartman, Stan came over to my room last night after he was finished talking to Wendy..." He didn't elaborate any further, preferring to gauge how Cartman would react to this little bit of information first.

Eyebrows furrowing, Eric could feel all the blood drain from his face as a cold chill raced up his spine. He hadn't the foggiest as to why Kyle cut off right there, or why the fucker was expecting him to jump to some specific conclusion. Yet as terrified as he felt, he felt equally as enraged, but he wouldn't assume the worst. He really couldn’t, not after this harrowing weekend. "And...? What did you do? He obviously just wanted you to pat his back and say "Awww its okay. Wendy's a bitch and it's totally not your fault" even though it was TOTALLY both of their faults." He gave Kyle a stern look, "That's what you told him, right? You didn't /enable/ his morose and dependent behavior like you SAID you wouldn't do?"

Kyle gulped - not even bothering to try and hide it this time - but he carefully smoothed his face into steely reservation. Being bullied was most certainly not on his agenda tonight, and he wasn't afraid to let Cartman know that. "You're mostly right about the first part, at least. We both wanted some comfort last night. But we didn't actually get much talking in..." He paused, taking this awkward moment to finish off his pizza. Fuck, if he wasn't nervous as all hell, though... "I still have no idea how the fuck /he/ feels," Kyle continued, "but I do know that I certainly feel a whole lot better about my own feelings, now. You and I already had a discussion about this before you got with Wendy, Cartman. You wanted me to decide and to figure things out for myself, so I did, and I am." He crossed his arms again for emphasis.

Eric flashed open his eyes, suddenly feeling anxious and sick all over again as his jaw slacked and his stomach churned. "Decided... what exactly."

"What.../who/ I want." Kyle sighed, shifting his position several times as though he couldn't get comfortable. He ran a hand back through his unruly red hair with a huff of frustration. "I'm sorry. You were right, though. If it makes you feel any better... He does seem entirely dependent and morose as ever. And you were also right in the fact that there's no way I can see myself being with you without ever having known what being with him would be like... It's pretty much the same thing you just did with Wendy, to a fault..."

It took a second or two for Eric to actually process what Kyle was telling him. So he was right, but right in the WRONG way. The VERY wrong way. The "Oh no you didn't" way where Eric was pretty sure someone was going to end up dead tonight. With his expression as cold and hard as stone, he continued to stare bewilderedly at the other boy while speaking just above a growl. "You're telling me, you chose him... because of /my/ suggestion?"

As plainly and matter-of-factly as he could, Kyle replied with, "Yes, Mister I-Can-Tell-You-How-Your-Life-Pans-Out-Because-I've-Already-Lived-It-With-You-Kahl. I chose him because you told me I would want to regardless, and I finally decided to admit that you're right... I do." Unexpected hurt flitted across Kyle's face, a pain too quick and sharp for him to cover up. "And I really don't see how you could get upset over this. If you're right about that, then you're probably right about the end result, too..." He took another deep breath in order to steady his nerves and to try and will away the dangerous vibes in the room.

An eerie calm washed over Eric right then. His mind went blank, and all he could manage to do was keep himself seated, fighting the urge to fly over to the bed to tackle Kyle right then and there for being SUCH a fucking idiot! He should have seen this coming, and he did, but he didn't expect it to hurt THIS much. There was nothing there anymore, what little home he had had just been violently torn from him. Staring calmly at his coke, he swished it around once, then twice... not saying a word and not daring to look at his beloved, quivering redhead sitting opposite from him. "So you've come to tell me the kiss was... nothing."

Kyle frowned, but concern somehow wormed its way into his wary expression as well. "What do you think? Honestly. If you can sit there and tell me - to my face - that it was nothing, then I'll get up and walk out right now, Eric. You fucking know better."

Suddenly, the cup in his hand cracked. The plastic shards darting from every which way as the coke slowly dripped down his wrist. "Hmhmm, see I know it meant something to you, it meant a LOT to you, as it did me. But you're turning your back on it anyway." His eyes finally met with Kyle's, dark and empty as his smirk slowly twisted down into a daunting scowl. "So what? Do you really expect me to give you a fucking blessing or something? Reassurance that what you're doing is right? Because guess what Kyle? If things keep happening the way they've been playing out, you're right! I'll be RIGHT about that too! But.... hahAHAHAHAHA!" He started cackling, slapping a hand to his face to hide his frenzy. "Of COURSE you'd have to experience it for yourself!" Stopping his onslaught of laughter, he peered through the slits in his fingers as bands of hair slowly cascaded down his face. "You stubborn motherfucker..."

Wow. Kyle didn't know whether he should be disgusted, scared, worried, or even cracking the hell up right now, after hearing Cartman's manic tirade. He seemed to feel everything at once in one giant blob of emotional fuckery that merely left him calm and somewhat confused in its aftermath. He was very still, sitting there on the bed with his arms still crossed. "Are you seriously gonna do this right now?" he stated, calmly and flatly, his voice a familiar emotionless drone. A nostalgic feeling skittered across his conscience, reminding him of all the times during their childhood that he'd lectured Cartman in that same flat, nasally tone when the other boy had acted melodramatically out of line. "Please, dude, just don't. For /once/ in your life, can you try to be mature about something?"

Standing up, Eric started pacing around the hotel room, scrambling to formulate some kind of plan in his head, but all he could think to do was scream. Kyle obviously still had feelings for him, but Stan YET AGAIN was getting in the fucking way! It's not like Eric could talk Kyle out of it now, he already tried and OBVIOUSLY failed. The only thing Eric could think of doing then was backslapping Kyle onto the bed and showing him once and for all just who's emotions he was fucking with. Yet that would be foolish, and history has shown that the best way to get back at Kyle was to let the Jew fail at his own little fucking games. Nothing felt better than watching him come CRYING to him in the fucking cold and rain; that's how this was going to end, that's how this HAD to end. Turning around, Eric calmed down significantly and just smiled at him, shaking his head in a hopeless manner. "Says the one who wants everything and everyone. Oh Kyle..." He took several steps towards the bed, reaching forward to smooth his hand across the redhead's warm cheek. "Watching you get yourself out of this one will be quite a trip, but like always... hm." Leaning down, he daringly darted next to Kyle's ear to murmur in a dark whisper,  "I'll be there to mock you for your foolishness when you come to realize your /vast/ mistake..."

Kyle watched him - watched every move, every word that fell from his lips, every emotion on his face from the restrained fury to the eerie calm, even the devilish touch - without batting an eyelash. He schooled his features into unreadable neutrality and spoke without even the hint of a waver in his voice. He wouldn't let Cartman see what he held behind his calm: his disappointment, the internal shiver that such a dark whisper caused deep within him, and the pain that threatened to burst forth from him like water from a dam. There was a crack in his fortification now, and there was nothing Kyle could do about it but wait and let it burst. Later, though. Not yet; not now. He wouldn't give the bastard that kind of satisfaction - like a reward for acting this way. He deserved a punch to the face... "You'll regret it, Cartman. You'll regret treating me that way, if that time ever comes. And if you don't, I'll /make/ you regret it..."

Covertly inhaling a long stream of Kyle's scent, Eric savored all that he could from this lingering moment with his precious redhead - since this could very well be the last time Kyle would allow him to get so close. Yet he wasn't quite willing to accept that this soon, so he continued to hover over the other boy with his taunting grin. "Gut." The single syllable rolled off his tongue almost naturally, his voice dropping to such a frightening low timbre that even he couldn't place his own voice.  Nevertheless, he had to make this next move count, or else he might as well consider this his kiss goodbye. Making up his mind, Eric decidedly dropped the hardened act and offered Kyle a sad, but genuine smile. "I'll be waiting ever so anxiously for 'that time' then, /Liebchen/."  He rested his hands on Kyle's shoulders, gently pressing his lips to Kyle's head as he hummed a silent prayer. The time would come where Eric would reap what he's sewn, but until then, he'd have to learn how to be patient... and that was a skill he was noticeably lacking.

Kyle's eyes finally fluttered a bit, shimmering a glossy green, as the crack in his flood gate caved just a little bit more - especially at /liebchen/. He very nearly burst into tears. His resolve was as stubborn as ever, though, and he wouldn't open his heart up to Eric even if he....even if he had just given Kyle a treasured flicker of hope. Kyle might not ever tell the other boy of the utmost respect he'd earned during their time together here - partly because his actions tonight might well have destroyed it, but partly too because it was something Kyle himself had trouble understanding. He respected a /part/ of Eric Cartman, and in the short amount of time they'd been here, he'd even grown to love that part of him. Maybe in time, if things turned out as Eric predicted, Kyle would eventually learn to love the rest of him, too. But who knew what might happen? They could all end up back home tomorrow, or dead, even. Here, everything was uncertain. And of that, Eric was right once again. Kyle had finally dealt the cards and set the play in motion, and the only thing he could do now was wait to see what everyone else would do. Uncertain as the future ever was and always would be.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kyle Broflovski

*Kyle huffs as they exit the bar, shoving his hands deep into his pockets even though it seems to be a rather warm summer night* So. Dude. What the hell was that just now? Honing in on me and Stan like that. It's a rather touchy subject at the moment, in case you didn't notice...

  Craig Tucker

*Craig followed him out, then shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets* ...Yeah? Hadn’t noticed. *mutters, then tugs his hat on snugger* Sorry 'bout that.

  Kyle Broflovski

*slightly surprised at hearing somewhat of an apology from Craig, since the Craig from Kyle's own universe had never apologized to anyone for anything. Kyle decides to do a 180 on the conversation instead of digging on into a subject he didn't really want to discuss anyway* What the hell was up with Ruby, then? I mean, Ike and I fight, but not like...in flirt wars or anything... *thinks of Georgie briefly, but dismisses that as being irrelevant to what he's talking about right now* She came onto Stan out of nowhere, really.

  Craig Tucker

*Craig was working on a plan, so yeah, being on Kyle's good side right now was greatly needed* ...Who knows. My Ruby isn’t that much of a flirt. Kinda cute. Takes a lot after me... *He shrugs, glancing at Kyle* ...Who knows.

  Kyle Broflovski

*Kyle raises his eyebrows, surprised again that someone here finally actually /gets it/* Dude, I couldn't agree more. Everyone I've interacted with here is so completely different from the versions of themselves in my own world, but they keep trying to play it off like we all /are/ the same people we've always known, but clearly we're not. *waits at a crosswalk for the traffic light to change before continuing the trek back to the hotel*

  Craig Tucker

*Smirks dryly, resisting the urge to make some snarky snide comment* ...Obviously...So if you and Stan did hook up...you wouldn’t even be with your Stan...just some other guy, who happened to look like Stan, sound like Stan, and be named Stan...

  Kyle Broflovski

*eyes Craig warily, but is not at all phased by him bringing up the subject Kyle had clearly tried to avoid* Exactly. He's a lot like the Stan I know, yeah, but he's a lot...different. Just like you're the-same-but-different, too, I'm sure. Are you dating Tweek in your world? You guys are the only openly gay couple in our school, where I'm from.

  Craig Tucker

Only open gay couple... *He hums and rubs under his chin, thinking* ...Nah. Don’t see it. Sorry. He's too much of a spazz. I gotta do too much to take care of the energizer bunny. *shrugs and keeps walking with him, eyes focusing on the things around them* ...in my world, you are extremely talented in bed. *He smirked dryly, obviously lying, and making a point to be obvious about it*

  Kyle Broflovski

Hah! Of course, dude. I'm good in bed no matter what universe I'm from. *playing along, Kyle winks melodramatically at Craig. But then he scoffs a bit more seriously and focuses back on the sidewalk under his feet* Guess I better add your world to my growing list of worlds that I end up gay in, too, huh? *sighs softly, stopping at yet another crosswalk* Apparently I'm pretty unique in that manner, here, in that I'm /not/ gay. I consider myself attracted to certain types of people, regardless of gender.

  Craig Tucker

/Not gay Kyle?/ *He made a gasping sound, eyes ever narrowed, expression dull to express that the gasping was completely sarcastic* /Mindblowing!/ *He couldn’t help it, okay. Tucker was full of those little jabs, really quick to the drawback*  ...So I'd say tall, dark, blue eyes...that your thing, Broflovski?

  Kyle Broflovski

Don't try to put a box around it. Stan's not the only person I'm attracted to, but even so, I'm not only attracted to him for his looks, either. *narrows his eyes right back at Craig, happening to catch how similar the other boy's looks were to Stan's as he stared* You keep talking like we've fooled around in your world or something....did we, really? *can't tell if Craig has been half-serious the whole time or just entirely messing with him*

  Craig Tucker

If you'd like, I can say we did, or didn’t. *He smirked more, making it very hard to tell which one it was* ...Whichever one keeps you in your comfort zone..

  Kyle Broflovski

*shrugs, not really interested either way in spite of Craig fitting his tall/brunette/light-eyed criteria quite nicely* Keeping your options open, huh? *sniffles slightly* Though I can't say I mind being pushed outside my comfort zone on occasion, I'd much rather hear the /truth/, whichever one that is. *quick pause* Whatever though. We're almost back.. God, I can't wait to crash and sleep off this fucking head cold. Hello Nyquil....

  Craig Tucker

*Craig resisted the urge to make another sneer or snarky comment, looking away from Kyle as they got back* ...Sucks you're feeling like shit though. Shame. *He didn’t say much else as they approached the building, eyes glazed as he thought Idly about his own plans*

  Kyle Broflovski

*quirks an eyebrow and laughs softly as he gradually makes his way to the hotel front entrance, careful not to run off and leave Craig completely behind, regardless of how eager he is to get back to his room* Shame, huh? *he says quietly under his breath*

  Craig Tucker

Complete shame.. *He shrugged and kept up pretty well, not really in the mood to get zapped anytime soon. Craig didn’t really enjoy being strung around but hey, better than shock therapy*

  Kyle Broflovski

*still speaking softly, not even sure he and Craig were having a legitimate conversation at this point* Why's that? *has to stop and wait for the elevator to come down, like, twenty floors*

  Craig Tucker

*Damn those twenty floors* Many things I could and probably would do if you were not sick. *He commented like it was the most casual topic in the world, looking indifferent to the topic actually, still deep in his plan-making* ...So it’s a shame.

  Kyle Broflovski

*flushes slightly (not from his cold) and covers a cough (also not from his cold) with one of his hands* Ah. *watches the numbers go down ever-so-slowly....10....9....* Honestly, if I felt better, I'd probably have walked back with Stan tonight. No offense... I mean, obviously we still have some... stuff... we have to sort out eventually. Sooner more than later, hopefully... *trails off a bit awkwardly as the elevator door pings open finally*

  Craig Tucker

Ahh. Your loss. *Still thinking, only half paying attention to Kyle* ...Though, Stan's so...hm. Nevermind. *Yeah. Get him sucked in. If Kyle asked, he'd be more willing to accept the answer. Simple manipulation.*

  Kyle Broflovski

Hm? *doesn't ask about it directly, but is intrigued by Craig's opinion of Stan nonetheless as he presses the button for their floor*

  Craig Tucker

Just. Stan. Don’t worry about it. *Which was fine. Kyle wasn’t his main goal, after all. He simply stepped in and let Kyle push the button for their floor, taking in a deep breath*

  Kyle Broflovski

I'll..try not to. *Kyle leans against a corner of the elevator, not really understanding Craig's angle, but too sleepy and snuffly to bring himself to care enough to figure it out. He yawns as the elevator ascends and then dings open on their respective floor*

  Craig Tucker

*Craig falls silent, taking the lead this time and stepping onto their floor. Long day. Why did it feel like tomorrow would be longer? Craig's mind hurt just thinking about it* ...See you...I guess...tomorrow.

  Kyle Broflovski

   “Normal people” tend to entrust a bomb shelter or a body guard with their personal safety, though seeing as how none were to be found in a close proximity, Josh sought out an alternative for protection. That was how he had ended up spending the last several hours in the dorm’s communal bathroom, too paranoid to leave. He generally preferred lavatories to any other room in a house – for obvious reasons. Everything that he needed was right there, except for food; he spent a great deal of time wondering why no one kept edibles in a restroom. With the rest of the world locked out, Myers felt secure enough to leave the safety of the empty bathtub to fetch a razor and some shaving cream. There was absolutely no way he would allow his facial hair to become as scruffy as the cat by his feet.

    Stan yawned widely. It had been a total of almost two weeks since he and Kyle had been in that fight. And something on four days since the two had really communicated. If it was right to even call it that much. Ever since the first the two had gotten into an actual row, he'd ended up simply crashing in his old dorm, part waiting, maybe just planning, for Christophe to move out of his room so he might have the chance to take up residence. An all end sort of plan. Like a backup to anything else that might be spinning through his brain about Kyle and Kenny's words and just the stupid shit that happened every day. Still...the past two weeks hadn't been nearly as miserable as he might've originally braced himself on. Generally it involved a lot of drinking, a lot of routine from the dorms to the bar and back again and a lot of tossing and turning and general lack in any sleep. An argument, witty or sarcastic banter and a new kid moving into the room.

    Tonight had been such of one of these restless nights, where all he could really do was pretend he could get to sleep before eventually giving up; especially after spending the last in a disgruntled state of trying to generally go out on a limb and search for Josh. He'd felt a certain amount of unease at his lack in presence as of recent, something of a prickle that had escalated into a permanent sort of aggravation upon their new dormmate replacement; an event in itself that had happened all too quickly and all too fast for Stan's comfort. Half of him was sure that Josh had already been gotten rid of, just like Craig and Kenny's and Kyle's dads before him.

    Another half actually almost hoped it was just a case of Josh doing something reckless and getting caught on it. A few days of detention. As horrible as a thought on that was, he felt tense and uneased and generally uncomfortable with the whole state of affairs. Especially so quickly after their last conversation involving Yates' guard duties.

    Eventually Stan pushed himself out of his bed and made his way in the dark, tired and bleary, attempting in avoiding running into Evan's and Dylan's bed as he worked over towards the bathroom. He was pretty accustomed to feeling his way out through the room after being here so long, eventually drunkenly taking grasp of the doorknob and all too quickly finding it locked. With a sigh he rested his head against the door, rapping on it lightly. "Ev'n....dude. Get out. I need to take a piss, man."

     A muffled voice and a scratching sound of hair against wood came from someplace that Josh currently didn’t want to think about, the other side of the door. He made no sudden movements, save for a few gentle strokes of the razor against his skin, just barely shifting his eyes shakily towards the direction of Stan’s voice. At least… he thought it was Stan’s voice, deciding that it was in his best interest to confirm that it was, in fact, the real dormmate. “Marsh?” Josh asked rather firmly, “S’that you?” The idea that it was a SPERC guard had him at edge, the hair on his arms raised, and the jittering of his hand was so close to nicking his chin that he had to drop the blade into the sink. The shuffling in the fluorescently lit restroom must have been strange to the eavesdropper on the other side. Getting his act together, Myers turned to face the door and asked, “Password. What is it?”

      Stan remained there for a moment, forehead resting against the door, frowning to himself, brows furrowed. It took a good grasp on a second to digest who's voice it had been coming from the other side, and it was easy to say said voice pushed him in a drop to a suddenly more sobered, alert state. He stood up a little straighter, staring at the door for a good beat on a second. "....Josh? Dud--Dude, where the hell have you been--?" The boy hissed against the dark, giving the knob another frustrated jiggle as if this was somehow productive in any fashion. "And---w--what? Dude. I don't know. But yea, it's me, just open the door, man."

     That was Stan and Josh knew it. His gut knew it. Every fiber in his being knew that the identity of the other boy was his dormmate. It was clear by the way Stan had responded, with an almost panicked sense of relief, mixed with drunkenness, and frustration. Damn, Myers didn’t think he would be able to recognize any of the other Ron Jeremy occupants as well as he could. “For future reference, Stanley,” he said, reaching over to unlock the doorknob, “I do suggest developing a password system, in the case that we come into contact with an imposter.” Upon seeing Stan, Josh’s eyes squinted and scanned him with a serious, though only half shaven, face. He smirked, “It would be… useful. For a party sharing a residency. Hmm, I see that someone has taken my bed, and that you are, too put it frankly, ‘bent out of shape, bucko.’ Can’t sleep? That’s unfortunate.”

      Josh was right--the relief hit him a bit more than he might've anticipated at the picture of Josh's half unshaven face; his dormmate looking far from the picture perfect decor and smooth hair he usually presented. He flashed on a somewhat irritated look, glancing behind him into the dark room, "Dude....what? Why the hell would someone impersonate us." He gave an unhelpful, still holding to anticipation, gesture with one arm back into the room where no doubt hidden cameras recorded everything down to their body size. "They basically have us on candid camera 24/7. Anyways, where the hell have you been--? Man I've been out looking for you basically since you've left." The words were bit out on a biting note, almost like that of a mother reprimanding their kid for being out too late. In perfect honesty the entire thing had had him thrown off, half expecting Josh to be gone for good.

     “I have a theory,” Myers began, pausing mid-sentence to turn back to the sink, “that the SPRC is able to trick us all with exact copies of ourselves. Like Ricky Ricardo and his replacement, and, sadly for them, that ploy isn’t fooling anyone.” Applying some shaving cream to the other cheek, Josh realized he must have sounded like a hysteric, especially to Stan, who was often the audience of his madness. “I’m not sure how we’ve been getting through this situation, to be blatantly honest. I can even criticize myself for being too trusting of the others. How are we sure that blond boy in the other room isn’t working for them? And what about Tucker, this new version of Tucker, how can we be sure that he isn’t one of SPRC’s replacements?” he scraped his chin roughly, too caught up in his conspiracy theories to think straight or answer Stan’s big question. Splashing water on his face, Josh shook his head free of stray foam and his paranoid thoughts. “Marsh, you show too much concern, it’s almost… derisory.”

      Stan was too tired for this--avoiding questions, conspiracies, paranoia. It wasn't as if these things weren't uncalled for in this world, this place, but then again that Ricky Ricardo or whoever hadn't exactly been an exact replica. And it really wasn't as if it was all cloak and daggers--not as much maybe as it could be. There wasn't a lot beyond them being stuck in a circus to dance for whoever was watching.     He looked a bit uneased still despite himself, albeit nothing to perhaps Josh's extent, or an extent of pushing passed his tired demeanor. Stan did however, for his part, throw a look back towards Thomas as Josh mentioned him. "Uh, well...I...mean it's possible. But we've....been here for months dude." He sounded a little nervous despite himself, as if worried about Josh more than his theories, "I mean. Hell, we've been here so long I've got Rumor has It pretty much permanently ingrained into my head at this point." His voice was somewhat heavy on sarcastic and oddly dull, despite his frown. "Why would they even want to...replace us. Or put in informants...? They've already got Georgie, you considered joining. They have cameras everywhere. Who even knows who else wants to become a guard, man."

     At the mention of the antagonizing Adele song, Josh began to hum the tune as he carried out the rest of his facial cleansing ritual, organizing bottles and the like in the medicine cabinet for the only purpose of avoiding Stan’s gaze. The slightest sign of emotion crept onto his features, a minor quirk of the lips, or a frown – an indication that /something/ was troubling him. “It is rather simple, you know. SPERC is on a quest for ratings, as well as a quest to reshape us into their ideal image of us. If you begin to consider these possibilities, replacing us with “proper” versions of ourselves would make perfect sense!” Myers droned on, suddenly facing the other boy, “It’s the only explanation that I can think of.” With a fierce swipe of the hand, he pointed a sharp-toothed comb at Stan, beaming, “This is a very… bizarre government, Marsh. If they want total control over the civilians, they WILL infiltrate our living quarters. And that is why I have chosen to infiltrate THEIR systems. By working for them.”

     Stan stared for a good moment at the other, as if trying to work out whether or not he'd heard him right. Before hand, he'd merely watched Josh on something of a cautious note during his "presentation" of all his thoughts on the inner workings of what was going on in SPERC and their plans. The "reshaping" them into "ideal images" of what they wanted struck Stan somewhere cold, causing the cautious teen to be even more so, paling slightly but still holding something on a good gaze with Josh. "You....joined them." He deadpanned, repeating the obvious into the room, not bothering on masking his voice to something a bit quieter. "....Are you a moron? Do you. Do you know what they're going to do to you? Hell, you do realize they know that you're doing this for those very reasons in the first place. Dude--it's probably on live time air, next week on Socially deranged Teens in South Park, Myers has a foiled plot to overthrow the government--stay tuned for HQ's thoughts on the matter."

     Snickering and shaking his head seemed like the best way to react, and that is precisely what Josh did. “Oh Stanley…” he smiled and made a long string of “tsk tsks” at Stan’s naivety. Although Marsh was most likely correct, and Myers was, in actuality, a moron for going ahead and joining the guard, he was far too confident in his own abilities. The smile he displayed was brimming with arrogance. As amused as he was at Stan’s mockery of a reality TV show host, he wasn’t about to share his plots with anyone, not when there were cameras about and everyone in the world was an imbecile in his opinion. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, using the comb to weave his hair back into its orderly position, “Now then. Did you need to ‘take a piss’ or has your short term memory gotten the better of you?”

      Stan stood there again for a good moment, shaking his head slightly, still face reflecting something on stern disbelief. "....Myers. Dude. No offense. But you...are an idiot." He had no trouble picking up on Myer's arrogance or his conviction in what it was he was doing, something clearly Josh-esque, but at the same time not. Not at least at this level with seconds before having been prattling off in almost complete paranoia of the place. Stan wasn't sure if he should even be taking everything he said in a totally solid context here. He gave the other another uncertain look through sharp eyes, "So, what, you're going to try and create drama now? Or you got some sort of evil hierarchy to crumble SPERC's hold on the world." He spoke, working his way in the bathroom and throwing the other another look, a raise of the brow.

     A sharp dagger-like gaze hit Stan as Myers finished combing his hair. Josh’s neck nearly cracked, trying to gesture towards a camera on the ceiling, ever so slightly, for he feared that whatever security guard watching them through the lens would notice. Brows furrowing, he subtly made a “shhh” sound, and only then did he speak. “I’m going to do my best to please the supervisors and reform myself. I’ve been out of line for too long,” he uttered, hastily forcing the words out of his mouth as though they were poison. Josh leaned in, staring straight into Stan’s eyes, wanting to make some kind of sync or connection between their thoughts in order to understand one another. And ever so suddenly, he smiled again and shoved a roll of toilet paper into Marsh’s hands. “You can have the restroom now,” Josh continued, politely leaving soon after to rummage through the main room in the dark.    The roll of toilet paper left behind read with intimidating handwriting, “DO NOT RUIN THIS FOR ME STAN MARSH.”

      Stan followed Josh's gaze as he twitched up slightly toward one of the more...not. Hidden cameras. Albeit Stan was also quite sure there was enough cameras circling the room for a decent TV show to take off, he rolled his eyes slightly to the side, looking tired, but generally complying regardless. Giving Josh a bit of a "look," while the other seemed to try and communicate silently with him on perhaps the importance of him not openly asking these things. "Right. Of course..." And only just biting back a sarcastic comment that would ruin the last statement quite nicely. He instead bit on a pressed smile, in return for Josh's, glancing down at the toilet paper as the other shoved it into his hands. And all at once, catching the writing while the other left him apparently to do his business, in reality leaving the boy to pinch his nose again with a slight wince. This was not going to end well. For anyone. He guessed he should feel lucky Josh was keeping him in on it at all. Even bringing it up to him to begin with, whether or not perfectly recorded by everything around them, should probably be considered some kind of small miracle or blessing or something on trust or...something. Either way he sighed as he tossed the toilet paper behind him, unzipping his pants after reaching the toilet. Just to catch sight of the scene to the right of him.     Off to the side, where the shower usually was along a typical drain on the ground, lay a full fledged mattress of toilet paper, a fort maybe, and a decorative design of toilet paper against the wall that neatly wrote the word "crap" in a cursive flare. Along side that was a bit of artwork along the wall and, fly open, Stan could only just stare in disbelief.     "J....Josh?" He called, distantly, eyes still set on the work in front of him. "Uh...Josh." A quick zip up of his pants and he was moving to re-open the shut door, "Josh--please....tell me I'm not right in thinking that you're thinking....Josh---you are not moving into the bathroom."

     A scrambling could be heard in the darkness of the room. Whether Stan preferred to keep a certain level of privacy or not, Josh poked his head in, just barely. “I don’t see what harm it would be. There is certainly no way I would share a bed with another person, not when this blond man is new and untrustworthy, and uttering foul language in his sleep. The Colonel is one thing,” he said, scratching behind the calico cat’s ears, “but staying in such an intimate proximity to someone else…”

      "Right--well. I was thinking," Stan leveled to the other boy, looking a little taken a back at the door being opened just as he'd began to turn the knob himself, "That we'd just. Tell him to move out. Move into another empty dorm or Kyle's, there's like, two rooms there. And...and....dude. Dude. The bathroom--?" Stan's face kind of fell on those words, looking at the other as if suppressing a very real groan.

     It occurred to Josh that there were plenty of other ways to go about this. He could move into the secret underground base, or find another empty dorm for himself. With his newfound occupation, the SPRC could even move him away from the residential area. It then occurred, again, that he seldom slept except on the very special and rare occasions when his mind needed to rest, so why was it that he needed a bed in the first place? His eye twitched in thought. He was territorial, that was it, and it was very simple. Josh’s most important revelation of that moment, however, was that his head was still in the restroom. He slipped out, closed the door behind him, and whispered. “Marsh, by the sound of it, it seems like you want me to stay and for this other fellow to disperse. That is rather rude of you! Why can’t I stay in the bathroom? It already smells better; the art gives it a nice homey feel to it,” his words rang like he had been watching too many episodes of Martha Stewart, which was most likely true.

      Stan's expression changed to something on vaguely annoyed as Josh pulled back from inside the restroom, Stan placing a hand firmly against his head and simply shaking it as he opened the door, "Because. Josh. It's where we piss. It's where we shower. And take dumps, dude. And it is by far, the only place in which we get privacy outside of," and he gave a dramatic wave to the camera above them, hand still pressing firmly against his head, which also happened to be bowed against it as he spoke, the boy rubbing his forehead.

      "Have you ever pondered why there are cameras in the lavatories of all places?" Myers merely offered in response. "I find it so... odd that you care so much about this, Stan. Although, you do care about many things. So stubborn, so very stubborn."

      Stan peered up, looking at Josh, "What, you find it odd that I'd care where or if at all I'm going to take my shower? Or if anyone's around watching? Particularly you or...or Evan?" Something came on a more annoyed note at Evan, but regardless he gave another gesture of his arm. "Really?"

      It all made sense. It all made perfect sense. Myers was almost shocked at how he hadn't realized it sooner. "So, Marsh, when did you officially move in, hm? Did you pack all of your bags and ship them here? Did Kyle force you out or did you come here of your own free will?" he pestered, enjoying every moment of questioning the other boy, and made a dramatic show of crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. "So you do enjoy our company. I see. As for our dispute over the bathroom, I'm afraid that it is far too late, and you are far too drunk and fatigued, and I, too, am exhausted. After a week like this, anyone would be in this condition, and perhaps anyone would find a bathtub to be comfortable when they are at such an extreme echelon of fatigue. Now then, am I allowed to keep the restroom for a short while for recuperation?"

      Stan seemed to mouth wordlessly for a second while Josh went on, studying the other a moment of disbelief. "N--okay, no. No, that is actually, dude, none of your business. And..." He gave Josh a hard, almost disapproving look by the end of the other boy's words, just really taking a breath. "Fine. But I'm asking Thomas to leave. And you. Are then moving out of the bathroom. And...back into your actual bed. Alright?"

     "You should know by now that that is not how I play. You will tell me what isn't my business, and only then will I move out of the tub, capiche? That is a fair trade, yes?” Myers remained glued to the door frame, now with one heel crossed in a way that a 50’s era greaser would consider ‘intimidating and cool.’ Josh, however, wasn’t fooling anyone. He would try any method to get what he wanted from Stan, though, and later he would think impersonating a greaser was ‘a good idea at the time.’

      Stan rolled his eyes, looking tired. "Dude." He was about to just ignore the subject, but seemingly gave in, again to even more annoyance from Stan. "We had a fight. Alright. It's nothing big." He answered, sounding tired and irritable on that point as well as generally deflective, but at least if nothing else Josh could walk away thinking his greaser's impression had paid off. He gave the other a raised brow as if to, rather rudely maybe, ask if there was anything else.

     With a nod of pure satisfaction, having gotten what he wanted to hear, Josh proceeded to harass Stan for more information. In some delusional way, he thought it would be helpful for the boy to talk about his problems, but Stan would never agree to having slumber party talk in the bathroom. “A fight, hm? What about this time?” Myers continued pressing on, “Does it hurt each time the two of you don’t see eye to eye, or when your personal feelings are disregarded? Yeah, I bet it hurts.” He placed his hand to his chest, as if trying to imagine what it must feel like. He wouldn’t understand the feeling of heartbreak even if his own heart was literally torn apart. “It hurts you right here, Marsh.”

    Again, Stan was too tired for this shit. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected Josh to ask at some point, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped for the others to drop it however. He threw the other another annoyed look on a raised eyebrow, rather as if asking, 'really, dude.' "Yea, you got me down to a T, Myers. Really, great job, man." His voice was pretty flat, dull, and certainly sharing on his typical sarcasm. "Look. I still need to take a piss, dude. So let's just leave it at that."

      "Right, right, right," Myers said, snapping out of his usual pushy nature, "We will have to discuss the matter later when you are feeling less sarcastic. Good night, Stanley." Before he could allow "pee, pee, pee, pee, pee" to escape his lips, he closed the door, dividing their two separate worlds once again. Now that Josh was surrounded by darkness and sleeping bodies, he couldn't help but to feel sleepy himself. Partly staring into the corner with a dreary gaze, and partly being convinced by his conscience that taking Stan's bed for the night was not a good idea, Josh simply let his eyelids do as they wished while he stood, drifting into a state of upright sleep in the middle of the room.

Wendy carefully slid one of her books next to one of the many cameras she had installed in her room to keep it out of sight. Stan would not agree to her little plan of sabotage on Cartman, so the only way was to deceive him, as well. Wendy frowned, feeling her heart ache. She really didn't want to hurt either of the boys, but this was the only way. She had already told Stan to come to her room, so she dressed quickly in a skirt way too short for her normal standards and a tight purple shirt. Wendy did a quick survey of her room. All the cameras were in place, all hidden. Wendy sighed, if she wanted to save her friends, it was now or never.

Stan approached the dorm. He held very little expression as he stared off, the boy in his usual jacket, jeans and sneakers; the same he'd lent to Wendy during the entire gender switch ordeal. His gaze lowered slightly as he eventually reached the dorm, standing a moment too long in front of the same door he'd been at just maybe a week or so ago. After a long moment, eventually, the boy sighed and rapped three times.

Wendy swung open the door, to see Stan standing there looking somewhat annoyed. "Hey, Stan. Come in," She said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She waved him in, smiling nervously. "You wanted to speak to me about something?" Wendy asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Stan wasn't annoyed, not exactly. In fact his expression seemed more distant than anything, his gaze lifting only when Wendy opened the door. He looked at her a moment, her eyes rather than anything else, seemingly struck in on her and something else altogether in his mind. As soon as she'd walked in he found himself following after her, looking away for a moment and shutting the door gently behind him as if to gather some of his thoughts. When he did eventually speak his voice was oddly soft for his expression, albeit also very stern. 

"....What are you doing, Wen."

Wendy sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She knew she was going to get this reaction from her new guard status, but she couldn't help but feel a little taken back by him. Stan was looking at her in a way that made her want to run to her bed, hide under the covers, and not go through with anything. She looked into his green eyes before looking down guiltily. "Can we not talk about that. It's not a big deal," She mumbled.

He gave a slight, whistful kind of grin. "...Come on, Wendy. Since when were you one to be swayed by the masses." Green eyes lifted again to meet hers, something wry against them, the boy shaking his head slightly, hands still behind him at the door. "You were always the one to carve out a path for everyone, dude, take a stand. Knew exactly what you were doing even if it drove the whole world nuts, I know you." His smile turned back to a frown and the boy turned his eyes down again, as if in something more determined. "Josh is doing the same thing. Georgie, well. She's always been pretty heartless and manipulative. But you. You, Wendy?" He shook his head again, still not looking at her, "This is wrong. And you don't get it. None of you get it. You don't get what these people are like, Wen, you don't. And you don't know what it is they're going to do to you when they're through with this."

Wendy took a few steps towards him, reaching out to touch him, but lowered her hand. She looked at him pleadingly. "I do know what I'm doing, Stan. I would tell you but I can't right now," Wendy answered, biting her lip. She felt like she was breaking inside, but she had to stay strong if her plan was going to work. "I don't care what happens to me in the end. You're right, I am the one to carve a path for everyone, and I'm doing that now," She finished, her tone determined.

He gave a slight laugh, still looking away but something of a painted grin forming on his face, again more distant if not accepting. "Yea, well...other people care what happens to you. I care." He returned his eyes to hers after a moment, "...I. Know Kyle cares. And Cartman. Wen. I've never been able to convince you out of anything before. Hell, you always..." He shook his head, still on that wry, distant grin, "Just do whatever you needed to, whatever you thought was right and damned the consequences. But Wendy. Please."

"Please? Please what? I can't go back now, it's too late," Wendy answered, a small tinge of sadness in her eyes. She stepped closer to him, interlacing her fingers with his. She was silent after, not knowing what to say. Stan was right. About her, about the government, about everything. She thought of Stan's brief time trapped in HQ, and that haunted look he had when he escaped. Wendy suddenly had thoughts of Stan locked away in a cell, waiting for Yates to come in and do god knows what while she had to stand guard and watch. She threw her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. "I'm scared..." she admitted, quietly.

Stan didn't resist as she took a hold of his hands, looking to meet her in the eyes. Something heavy held in his chest as he studied her gaze and too as all too suddenly she held him, arms around his neck in a familair, painfully familair manner. He gently brought his hands around her back, staring off in his own numb kind of pain. 

And then the boy seemed to have something caught on his voice even as he laughed pathetically at her words, "You...?...Wendy Testaburger, scared?" He didn't want this. Anymore than he wanted anything. But he eventually pulled back enough to really meet her in the gaze, looking as if more open than he ever had with the other, something reflecting on painful, but trusting and concerned, a mix to fall in a hint of a weak attempt of humor. "Oh. I don't believe it..." He spoke with that weak smile, voice forced and with a certain amount of meaning behind it. He swallowed.

"...I know you aren't going to listen to me. Or pull back, Wen. But. You always have the option. And just...whatever happens,...I'll still be here. Alright." He gave a slight shake of his head on his weak, feable and forced grin, "And I know. Hell. Well. You probably won't even need it, god knows back at home you kicked more ass than any of us..." There was a very slight laugh in his voice, Stan doing his best to speak in still a more confident tone, and with a confidence in her and in the fact that he already knew how pointless it was to fight with Wendy when she had her mind set. If not that, at least in some manner of acceptance or support. He knew too well to try and fight with her when she was like this, do anything but just pick up whatever pieces fell behind.

Wendy looked up at him, feeling completely vulnerable. Wendy was rarely so open with anyone, not even Cartman, who she dated for years. She was scared, confused, and so lost, but seeing Stan smile at her filled her with a new strength. She let out a tearful laugh at the mention of her kicking ass. She noticed that Stan looked pained, as well as concerned for her and Wendy knew she probably was looking at him the same way. "I know you will be... I'll always be here for you, too. Being a guard won't change that. I mean, I love..." She stopped herself, biting her tongue. The plan was nagging her in the back of her mind. It was much too late for confessions, and talk of love. 'Goodbye, Stan. You're going to hate me for this...' She thought, before taking a deep breath and pulling him down into a deep kiss.

Stan had not expected this. Stan had not been prepared for this. His eyes meeting on some slight in confusion as she spoke the first two words and something else he caught in her eyes, something oddly familair but telling. Stan had spent most of his life with Wendy, but then once she kissed him, something else too familair for his mind to handle, the breath and all sense of anything became knocked clear out of him. He stood, as if totally useless, hands at his sides as if uncertain on how to react, dumbstruck to the spot, his mind somwhere else completely; maybe lost along the furnishings or the trees outside the dorm. But before he knew how to react or what to do, he was suddenly kissing back, as if on automatic, as if it had been the thousands of other times since they'd been dating except this wasn't like any of them, in reality it wasn't like any one of them. Even the power behind it left him dumbfounded, reaching gently to touch Wendy's cheek along and in the moment even as the feeling of it all left his mind reeling.

Wendy's senses were on fire. This was something unsafe, something new and exciting. Wendy had always loved a good adventure and a little recklessness. She weaved her hands into Stan's hair, thrilled with the fact that he was kissing her back. More, more, more. 'HQ will never be impressed if we stick to a simple kiss,' She thought. Secretly, Wendy knew this wasn't just about impressing the higher ups. This was about the weeks of sexual tension between them, and how she was realizing how badly she wanted all of this to happen. She shyly licked his lower lip, loving the feel of his hand on her cheek. "It was never about Cartman. He means nothing to me here," She said lied breathlessly, after pulling away then kissing him lightly again. Wendy felt a pang of guilt. She couldn't believe she was cheating on Cartman in both worlds, but she needed to do this. Her feelings for Stan had been present in the past weeks, so it wasn't like there were no feelings attached to the kiss.

The tension between them felt almost explosive, Stan simply taking it in, the taste, the heat and feel rivetting and speaking volumes to just Wendy. Even the closeness, the smell, her, here like this poured against him in a rush and while he still couldn't feel beyond a kind of shocked disonance, a part of him had been sure they'd break away and it would kind of leave him there as if in some sort of dazed dream, his head too full to properly think. But they didn't exactly stop and he went with it, in the heat of it, in whatever had been happening with them, something he hadn't expected, had not on any level prepared for--Wendy was with Cartman, after all--she had never really felt like this as far as he knew, after all, and yet these thoughts on something as simple as "logic" and "thought process" and "common sense" were utterly lost to him while he continued to be captivated.

All of it seemed so surreal as they broke apart, still noses practically touching, and something almost in need or a dazed feeling on love certainly reflecting vivid in Stan's eyes, breath hot and face flushed. It seemed to drown out any other thought. That was until she spoke. 

Common sense and it's neighbor on sensibility came barging, breaking back in through his mind as if suddenly in a flash. Just the words, something abrupt and chillingly familair about them driving in through Stan as if cold. And he stood there, in a daze, expression somewhat numb, "....What....?" He asked dumbly, softly, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her.

((tell me if any of these don't make sense or anything >____>

Wendy looked at him with soft eyes, feeling drunk on love or lust; she couldn't tell the difference right now. "I'm saying," She whispered, "that you mean more to me than Cartman ever did." She finished, saying Cartman's name with disgust for good measure. She kissed his cheek, lingering against his skin. "Don't you want this? Tell me it's not just me," She said softly, a little sternness in her tone.

"...You were with Cartman...for years." His voice carried softly, still standing there with her, Stan at that moment not pulling away or leaning into her kiss or touch, but finding it affecting him, just as numb as before. His mind had stuttered over something heavy, cold and wouldn't break out, him still coddling in with whatever sensibility that had stayed with him.

Wendy's stomach flipped. This was not according to plan, not at all. Her head was swimming, filled with worries. She needed to get Stan to see eye to eye with her. "In my world. Not here. This place... it's changed me. I feel like it's changed everyone. This Cartman was a crutch because I was homesick. It's nothing like how I feel for you," She answered quickly. She was desperate now, and felt like she was drowning. She was a liar, a fake. 'I fit right in with this fucking government,' She thought, darkly.

Even in his muddled state, Stan could hear some of the desperation in her voice, "That's funny." He spoke softly, looking off, the heat of this still a whitewash through his brain. "Because he's really not that different. None of us are." His eyes moved back to try and meet hers, soft on still that something numb, even if the attempt in eye contact might end pointless, Stan made the effort regardless. "......what are you doing, Wendy."

Wendy avoided looking at his eyes, knowing she might start crying from frustration if she did. She held her tears back, putting on a brave face. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything," She mumbled. She felt ridiculous, like she was eight years old again.

He stood there for a moment, looking down to her. His own feelings not quite as evident, still feeling masked under the weight of the numbess and, too, pain that fell over him. After a second, he, gently and uncertain, took one of her hands in his, making an effort to swallow down his own thoughts and doubts and difficulties that raced against him in every moment but also finding he was shaking now. "...No. That's...it's fine." He pushed in a slight, wry, smile, "Next time...might want to. Leave Cartman out of it. It's good, though. Good...good try." He commended her, his eyes not meeting hers as he took a breath, looking up at her only once on the tight smile before pulling away and turning toward the door just behind them.

"Just. Remember what I said. In the future." With another breath, just like that that Stan twisted the door knob, pushing out through into the outside, hands slipping deafly into his jacket pockets as he moved.