#hideduo proposal

Guess who got a tattoo with a reference to them Litterally during the stream... I couldn't have planned this I made this appointment when Fit was playing Madagio????

Also Guapoduo <3 right next to it. Just so there is NO doubts my intentions

It started with a creeky floorboard. Not surprising, given this place was abandoned for who knows how long. But then came the kitchen install, and the noticeable merk in the hot tub's water supply. None of which were too big a problem for Fit. Yet, with all this running, and still so much more to do before Tuesday. What, with the picnic and his own clean up... it all calls into question the doubt.

Building in the back of his head, tracing to the first island, the line of whether or not he was good, or bold, or strong, or able was never the question. Only- was he enough? Specifically, enough for Pac.

The answer came readily after the question. Always a resoundingly enthusiastic yes. If not from Pac himself, then from Ramon or Richas, or any one of Quesidilla's members. There never seemed to be doubt from anyone other than himself. You'd think after three years it would go away. But no, it's only faded. Opacifying to the point of needing to squint to see it. Yet it remained.

Those thoughts settled between the rhythmic thumps of boards interlocking after seemingly years of being displaced. A slow stand followed by a steady weight adjustment made him smile as the once loud creek and subsequent dip of wood was nothing but a memory. The tired sigh came before the thought of what he should do next. His eyes catch the simple kitchen. It's humble compared to the one in Pac's room. Perhaps it needed more counter space? Or storage? Nothing a few barrels couldn't fix. No- cabinets. Pac deserves cabinets.

The stretch is slow. So too is the reach for his wrist to be in sight. A latch on his mechanical arm opens, and after a few inputs, a guide of available crafting recipes illuminates the room. Speaking of, "Torches must be hung. If not tonight, then tomorrow." He mumbles even though he's already snatching them from his inventory. They're dotted around haphazardly, while the light promise of replacing them with something more moody sticks to the side of his skull.

The stories gradually illuminate, just as the monsters' groaning fills the otherwise dead air. Fit pays them no mind, opting for the attention made from the slight jolt to his shoulder. He huffs, now noticing the message from the global chat:

EWROON: sleep?

It could just be him, but the message felt heavier than all the wood he's carried that day. Let alone all the items he's shoved in his bag. Although that could have been from the slouch he's been sporting since the voices have died down. His journey from the third to the first floor pauses at the second. His eyes caught the untouched sheets of the lone bed. It's future bound in whispers trailing up his spine in the dead of night. Fit could see it now. Pac tantalizes him from under the duvet in a way no one else will know. Only when he's widdened the fame, though, until then.