It turned out that Forte was terrible at imitating Blues for very long. Part of the trouble was that he just didnât hold onto anger very well. Bruised pride, sure, and he was usually irritated by something at any given time. It was just that the source of that irritation was a fluid thing and depended on what he was actively encountering. Older slights just kind of faded into a dull burn to be recalled when needed.
Although... if it hadnât been for the sake of his own stubborn nature, he may not have have bothered returning this early on. Wily certainly had enough going on at his island hideout to keep everyone busy, and even though Forte had tried to slip away at the nearest moment his pride and schedule allowed for, it was still two weeks, nearly three, after the rather disastrous family reunion when he was standing uncertainly in front of Bluesâ front door.Â
There was a small box in his hands. Right now he was trying to decide if he should storm the castle like nothing was wrong, or just leave it on the front step and bolt. He was leaning towards the latter, as much as his pride railed against it.
Mind made up, Forte is going to take a few steps back and head around the side of the house. Heâll leave the box in Bluesâ room. And the most convenient way to get up there would be to simply scale the building and go in through the window.Â
