#very blessed

Oh!

:)

~

Melone's birthday present to Prosciutto was a giant cardboard popout cake.

The raucous party was instantly transformed into a good old-fashioned stand-off. Neither man spoke aloud, but they could see each other's every thought play across their faces, clear as day. Melone smirked. Prosciutto's finger twitched. A tumbleweed blew in through the window.

*I know you didn't just spend the whole fucking month's budget on a stripper in a cake,* the disapproving quirk of Prosciutto's eyebrow seemed to say.

Melone tilted his head slightly. *You don't know what I've got in here.*

A narrowing of the eyes. *Don't play dumb.*

Melone smiled. *It could be balloons. You don't know. Or a smaller cake. If you wanted a stripper, don't you think I'd have better options lined up than hiring a poor dancer to crouch awkwardly in an old IKEA box?*

(It was impressive that Prosciutto was able to glean so much information from a smile.)

Illuso, sick of the staring contest, broke the silence with, "So are you going to open it, or...?"

Prosciutto opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the cake burst open in a shower of confetti.

A series of beeps vaguely resembling "Happy Birthday To You" blasted from Baby Face as it rose from the cardboard cake. It struck the sexiest pose that a spike-covered robot wrangled into ill-fitting lingerie had ever made, which was Not Very, At All.

"Happy Birthday, Mr President," Melone sang in an over-exaggerated purr, and even Prosciutto could not stop himself from laughing a little as he told Melone off for throwing off the groove of the party for such a weird prank.

The music started up again, the drinks flowed, karaoke was sung, and laughter was shared. Formaggio put a party hat on Baby Face. All in all, it was a good night, and there was even minimal - minimal! - property damage.