The prompt: 14 using Scar and Persi (it doesn't need to be canonically with ur fic, to avoid spoilers, I'm just curious to see them on different situations :]
“Can you explain why my phone is up there?”
The first thing Persimmian was aware of was that the sky was a rather pleasant shade of bright blue. A couple of puffy clouds here and there. Very pretty.
The second thing she was aware of was the warm, familiar weight at her side, tucked under her right arm. A quick instinctual mental assessment (thin, tall, scruffy fur, on the right he's always on the right) instantaneously identified it as her best friend Scaramouche.
The third thing she was aware of was that her left side was cold. No warm, familiar weight.
The warm, familiar weight on her right shifted and settled. She wiggled her shoulder to nudge him awake.
That got Scar's attention. He lifted his head. Seeing no silver spotted tom on his friend's other side, he propped himself up to look around.
"I gotta bettah question for ya," he said.
"Hnh?" grunted Persi, still staring at the pretty sky.
Persi peeled her eyes away from the pleasant blue sky and puffy clouds to take a look around. They were laying in some sort of small field behind what looked like a suburban neighborhood. Rows of rundown houses with small back gardens lined three sides of the field. The fourth side was bordered by a highway.
"Where the fuck are we?" she asked.
"S'what I'm askin' you" Scar answered, rising into a kneeling position.
"I know. I mean I don't know. Shit," Persi's mind raced. The sensation was almost comforting to her. It meant she was finally properly awake. Her thoughts were always going a mile a minute.
But none of her thoughts right now could tell her where they were or how they'd got there.
"What'd we do last night?" she wondered as she sat up.
"Well we still have all our clothes on, so we prolly di'n't fuck," said Scar, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say. He was good at straight-faced teasing.
"Fuck off," Persi scolded softly, her mind elsewhere. She stood up and looked around some more. No sign of Crash. That's not good. Probably. She narrowed her eyes. Her ears went back. Her tail flicked back and forth, its long fur swaying.
Scar stood up next to her, eyeing his oldest friend. He knew what she looked like when she was thinking. It usually didn't take long. He looked around too, hoping to spot his other best friend laying in the grass some meters off, but no luck. Even with only one good eye he could tell they were alone in this field.
Persi could vaguely remember a party. She clung to that memory and worked to expand it. She's been there with Scar and Crash. Of course, that part was easy, they went everywhere together. The party had been mostly lame, but there had been booze. She remembered sitting on a sofa and laughing about something with the lads, beer in hand. She thinks it was beer. She didn't remember leaving.
"So what we doin', boss?" Scar's voice cut into her thoughts.
"We left the party without Crash, apparently," she said aloud, frowning. It didn't answer his question, but it was the thought she was having at that moment, and she knew what he really wanted was to hear her thoughts.
"Oh yeah, I remember, the party!" exclaimed Scar, snapping his fingers in triumph. Then he realized how the rest of that sentence went.
"Why da fuck would we do that?" he asked.
"I don't fuckin' know!" answered, frustrated and starting to worry. Scar was worried too, but Scar could shrug it off a lot easier. Sometimes it just pays to be calm about shit, even bad shit.
"Oi, Crash!" Persi called, hoping if he was in or near one of those houses he might hear her.
"Crashie!" echoed Scar "Where ya at?!" But they got no response.
"Maybe he like, was already passed out when we left or something," Scar thought aloud after a moment. It was the only thing he could think of that made sense.
"Ah yeah, maybe. I guess," agreed Persi. Then suddenly a thought came to her, one that should have come much sooner. Resisting the urge to smack herself in the face, she reached for her phone.
"Oi, where's my phone?!" she cried in alarm.
"I don't fuckin' know" shrugged Scar.
"Call Crashie," ordered Persi.
Scar dialed Crash's number.
Oi, you've reached a badass. You know I'm badass cuz I'm Australian. Aw yeah! Leave a message!
Scar hung up and opened the text messenger.
Crashie, dude, where you at?
Oi, you've reached a badass. You know I'm ba-
"Nothing," he said. "I texted him." Then he had a thought.
"Hang on I'ma try yours," he said.
They both listened close, but neither could hear Persi's ringtone within earshot.
After another attempt to call Crash, and a couple more unanswered texts, Persi decided they should head to one of the suburban streets bordering the field to get their bearings. As they walked, Scar kept trying Crash's and Persi's phones, and they both occasionally called out,
It turned out they hadn't traveled far from the party. They didn't recognize the street they came to at the edge of the field, but a quick Google Maps of the street name put it just three blocks from the address of the party, which was still saved in Scar's phone.
They headed off in that direction, hoping to retrace their steps, and possibly even find Crash asleep on the sofa. When they reached the party, or rather where the party used to be, they let themselves in, and made a search of the premises. They properly started to panic when all they found was trash, empty booze containers, and drunk jerks passed out in various locations around the house, none of them an Aussie silver bengal named Crashendo.
The stench of drunk farts and stale booze was getting to Persi. Exiting the house to stand on the lawn she took a deep breath of semi-fresh air and tried to get a grip on her thoughts. She was out of ideas. They needed to find Crash. They needed some sort of plan. Dammit. She was a decision maker, a tactician. She thought on her feet. She didn't do plans. Crash is the planner, she thought forlornly.
Scar joined her on the lawn, phone in hand.
"Maybe we can at least find your phone," he said, his voice totally even, as if nothing was wrong. But his clenched jaw and anxious eyes told a different story. Persi was grateful for Scar's calm sensibility under pressure.
He may not be the most educated fella, but damn if he ain't the only one with a brain sometimes, she thought, allowing herself a small affectionate smirk at her friend before worry wiped it from her face again.
"I don't really give a fuck about that," she growled, "but go ahead." It was a lie. Worry was making her argumentative. She wasn't sure how finding her phone would help find Crashie, but Scar never had an idea that turned out to be useless. She trusted him.
He started to turn back into the house as he dialed, but something stopped him in his tracks.
They both looked around them intently, ears twitching back and forth, trying to pinpoint the sound. It went to voicemail. Scar dialed again. It seemed to be coming from… above them?
They looked up. There, on the roof, tucked into a corner where the main roof met an alcove, laying next to two phones, asleep under the pretty blue sky and puffy clouds, was Crash.
"Oi!" called Persi, "Crash!"
Persi picked up an empty beer can from the lawn and tossed it at her sleeping friend. He grunted and stirred, then sat up, looking thoroughly bewildered.
"Crashie!" shouted Persi.
"Persi!" echoed Crash, looking down to find where her voice was coming from, the confusion leaving his face instantly when he spotted his best friends.
"What's up?" he asked with a smile, and without a single trace of irony.
"You are, looks like," answered Scar, straight-faced.
Persi's worry had evaporated, to be replaced with intense irritation. How in the hell had he... No she didn't want to know. And how was Scar not even surprised?
She pinched the bridge of her snout where it met her eyes. If she was honest with herself, she shouldn't be surprised either. Why couldn't she have normal friends? She glared up at Crash.
"Can you explain why my phone is up there?” she inquired flatly.
"Boss, I can't explain why I'm up here," he answered as he collected both phones and stood up.
"Well den get da fuck down ya idiot!" laughed Scar.
"Get the fuck down 'ere!" growled Persi in agreement, her accent bleeding through in her frustration. "D'you have any idea wot we been through? Get your arse down 'ere!"
"Can't say that I do, boss," drawled Crash as he slid on his arse down to the edge of the roof, where he gracefully jumped off. And not-so-gracefully landed hard on his feet with a soft thud, forgetting to bend his knees to absorb the impact and nearly falling over.
"Y'alright?" chorused Persi and Scar.
"Yea I'm good," said Crash, brushing imaginary dust from his wrinkled jumper. "So what've you two been up too?"
"Well first of all, we wake up in middle of a fuckin' field…"
Scar and Persi continued to fill Crash in on the morning's events as the three best friends started out for home. They quickly ran out of things to say as it turned out it hadn't been terribly eventful after all, just nerve-wracking, so they switched to other topics of conversation. On and on they walked, laughing and shoving each other and chatting about nothing in particular.
Persi put an arm around each of her friends, Scar on the right, Crash on the left, both warm, familiar weights against her sides. The sky was blue and pretty, and everything was right in the world.
