#should be

Do you agree with tennis legend Martina Navratilova's?

(they're... not? Technically. He and Visi are. But they flirt a ton, he and Flambae, and Visi has joked-but-not-really that Robert has two hands).

The ex is some mad scientist guy called El Supremo, which Robert finds hilarious up until he gets pumped full of a drug that makes it so he can't sleep.

Turns out he has only been a mere apprentice to the concept of sleep deprivation because God, it gets really bad really quickly. Everything hurts about a billion times more than usual, he can't really hold himself together... he lets it slip that he's Mecha Man when he corrects the guy ("jus' Mecha Man. Not the Mecha Man.") And then the guy cuts off his fucking fingers with pruning shears. The same ones he cut off of Flambae's hand, which would be poetic if he wasn't screaming.

He doesn't pass out. He can't. He just sort of goes in and out of coherence. Blink, the guy's rambling. Blink, oh there's Flambae. Blink, his arms are free and his face is getting cupped between two very warm hands, while two very golden, worried eyes look at him.

"You with me, Robert?"

Uh oh. That's not good. He's Robert, not Bob Bob or Rob Bob or Bitch or-

"Shut the fuck up, bitch."

Better.

"Got the fingers!" A familiar voice calls out, but Robert's too tired to place it. "Gettin' 'em on ice now, lad!" Robert nods as best he can with his face sandwiched between two of the most gentle hands he's felt in awhile.

Thumbs stroke his cheeks and it feels really nice. He wishes he could fall asleep like this. Then it gets even better and he's scooped up into very careful, very warm arms that smell like vanilla and woodsmoke. Normally he'd protest, he'd insist he can walk, take care of himself but... but God, he's so tired. It's fine if he just lets someone else do it, right? Its fine...

Blink, he's in the back of an ambulance and oh, its Visi. Holding his hand, the one that still has all the fingers. Petting his hair. Smiling at him. "Hey, babe," she whispers. "You're okay." That sounds right. He trusts her. He always did. Does she know that? He hopes so. Even when Shroud tried to say she'd always been working with him, Robert knew he was lying. Just trying to get under their skin. She wouldn't do that. She presses a kiss to his hand.

Blink, he's in a bed. A familiar bed, because its a hospital bed. He looks down and someone's stitching his fingers back on, which he watches with a detached sort of interest for a couple of seconds until a hand tilts his face back over and oh. His favorite people.

"Pfft. Don't let the others hear you say that," Courtney teases.

"Please, I'm telling everyone," Chad retorts, and Courtney laughs, which always sounds so wonderful. So nice. She should do it more often...

"Jesus... how long is this gonna last?" Courtney asks, sounding worried suddenly. Chad crosses his arms, shoulders rising.

"Fuck if I know. I'm not a fucking expert on how long weird ass drugs from crazy ex boyfriends last!"

Blink.

Courtney's tucked up against him, chin hooked on his shoulder. His hand is all bandaged up, and Chad's glaring at it like it owes him money.

"Hey, Chad," Courtney says, and when Chad looks over, she motions for him. Robert watches as he hesitates, then sighs and gets into bed next to him. It's... nice. Warm. Safe.

"Try to rest, babe," Courtney whispers, her hand rubbing soothing circles into his chest. "We got you." Chad's arm settles around Robert's shoulders.

Marko: Hey Star?

Star: Yeah?

Marko: I have a quick question for you.

Star: What?

Marko: How long have you been fucking Michael?

Star: W-what? What are you talking about?

Marko: How long have you been fucking Michael?

Star: I’m not. I’m not.

David: What are you talking about?

Marko: Laddie told Dwayne that he saw her get on his bike and then kiss him and ride off. That was like what, like a month ago?

*David looks at Star.*

David: Are you kidding me?

*As everybody looks at Star, eyes wide, totally fucking horrified.*

Paul: Star, that’s like, really bad.

David: You’re fucking Michael? Are you kidding me?

Star: No, I don’t even know why he would say that.

David: You’re lying.

Max: Yeah, can we just table this conversation?

David: No. You expect me to stand here next to her, and she's been lying to me about fucking my future husband. I’m literally gonna get violent.

Lucy: No there is no need to get violent okay because we are having an intervention. Stop it.

*Star starts to cry.*

David: Oh, you’re crying? You’re fucking crying?

Dwayne: David.

*David gets in Star's face and Dwayne tries to stop him.*

David: You fucking bitch, you’re the one who’s hurt? You are the most self centered, idiotic person I have ever fucking met. You fuck my future man and you’re fucking crying? Are you fucking kidding me?

Dwayne: We can deal with this later.

Star: I don’t even know why you’re believing him, he's lives for drama! Have you seen how he bites his thumb!

David: How long have you been fucking him? Be honest.

Paul: David, let’s just do it later.

David: Paul, shut the fuck up.

*turns back to Star*

David: How long have you been fucking him?

*Star continues to cry.*

David: Laddie? When was this?

Laddie: Right after the concert where that oily guy was playing the saxophone.

*David turns to Star, furious.*