closed for: @cricketcampbell
where: x and van's, mid-july
With a baseball bat in hand that he had carefully removed from the wall of X's in home studio -- signed by the L.A. Dodgers, no less -- Uly's light on his feet as he leaves a sleeping Edie in the guestroom and makes his way towards the unmistakeable sound of rummaging coming from his sister's closet.
Breaking in while knowing the homeowners were out of state at a funeral was a kind of gross that even Uly wasn't, and he had no qualms about testing out what proportional force meant under Cali laws.
"Got'cha, fucker!" He's just about to do his best Negan-brand swing when he clocks that the fucker in question is one he actually recognises, which has him freezing before he can bring the raised bat on a downward swing.
"Cricket? The fuck are you doing in there? I almost skull-squashed you like your bug ass name."