#toby determined.

Laszlo very rarely was in the mood to maim people, that was usually reserved for special occasions! 

Today was a very special occasion indeed. 

There he had been with Clara Baudry, the little protégé of Franny who had been such a delight to have around, sitting at the kitchen table scrolling their fan account Twitter feeds. She had gasped loudly and when he asked her what was wrong she turned her phone around to show him. 

An article had been written releasing, quote, New, never heard before, unreleased music from Franny Sor Robinson! Laszlo had scoffed at first, thinking it was some horrid ruse that would give people a virus if they clicked on it but upon further investigation it was real. Really real. The links they provided had Franny’s unreleased music. He knew this because, well, she had shared it with him but he was family! He heard everything she recorded! Even the joke sessions and weird noises! 

He scrolled back up, looking for the name of the person who had published— “Oh hell no.” 

“Where are you—?” Clara looked up from her phone at the sound of the front door slamming shut. “—going.” 

As he arrived at Town Hall he managed to compose himself enough to make it through the building without anyone suspecting him of any ill wishes. It was just his luck that when he arrived the man (if that’s what you could call him) he was looking for was just inside the Squire office. 

“You little bitch.” 

There was a man going through their garbage. 

Laszlo wouldn’t have noticed him had he hadn’t been walking by the right window at the right time. (Or wrong time, depending on which one of them you were asking.) He had half a mind to ask Carl to go see what on earth was going on out there. It wasn’t as if the Robinson’s hadn’t had their fair share of fans who didn’t understand boundaries, but digging through their trash? 

Then, when the man had looked up for a moment, Laszlo had recognized him. He was that reporter (if he could call himself that) from the Squire. The one who had written that terrible piece on Simba a few months ago. Hmph. 

He had grabbed the bag from the bin in the garage and walked out to the back alley. Laszlo stopped half way down the back driveway, hands on his hips. “Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing?”