A Rabbit's Foot For Good Luck

Ch4: And You Still Got Off Easy

"Whaddaya mean 'it's time for round two'?!"

You bit the inside of your cheek, glaring down the gullet of one of the holes. Admittedly, when he asked you like that, the confidence of hinting at something completely obvious in a witty way vanished to give way to the doubts.

"I thought you wanted to get the heck out of here, not keep playing her games!"

"And what do you reckon will happen here then?"

The sickly neons hummed a somber tune.

"What would have happened to you if I hadn't come back?"

Glowering at the Huggy Wuggy mural, large to the point of all-engulfing with a watchful smile like the image of a deity not meant to be depicted, you sighed off an unconfessed regret.

Bunzo had looked around the room plenty of times but at last, he saw; in the bowels of these walls rested eighteen of his brethren awaiting their fate in thick darkness and an even thicker silence. Had you not fought them for the reward of your life only minutes ago in the same room, you wouldn't have suspected their presence.

"But that's just crazy," he mumbled somberly, and if he had brows he likely would've knitted them. "You really think you can–"

"Think?"

Hands on your hips, you willed yourself to smirk a challenge in his face.

"Bet!"

Your spark of determination succeeded in reigniting his characteristic cheer. Thankfully so; without a more-or-less constant source of aimless positivity you might not have lasted so long around.

"So what's yer plan, then?" he questioned with a tilt of his head.

"First off, you get these back," you held out the cymbals in your grasp and allowed him to snatch them up eagerly, mouth agape in disbelief. "For the sake of convenience... and my safety. I'll use the grabpack to reach into the holes and pull them out while you–"

Your sentence was abruptly cut short by him rapidly smacking the plates together, cackling in a way best described as manic. You waited out patiently in a disappointed silence, crossing your arms, until his giggles gradually lessened and instruments ceased to collide at supersonic speeds. You could've looked at your wrist for emphasis, if only you had a watch.

Once he finished he admired them for a beat longer with an excited grin before his attention eventually drifted back to you.

"...Sorry, heh, come again?"

"Thank you," you said pointedly. "So I get the little beasts–"

"Huggy Buddies."

"Huh?"

"That's what we call 'em."

"...Right. So I get the Huggy Buddies."

"Uh-huh."

"With my grabpack."

"That's... not a good idea."

"Why?"

"They don't uh, particularly," he turned to the holes, gnawing on his lower lip, "like to be disturbed."

"That's where you come in, my friend."

He whipped his head around faster than it appeared physically safe to with a drawn-out, exaggerated gasp. Confused, you at first attributed this to a sudden realization regarding your plan until he solemnly breathed:

"I'm your friend?"

"Uhh..."

The shorter creature awaited your answer with gleaming beady eyes, his whole body wound up like a spring; you feared he might explode and splatter all across the ceiling if you provided none. You opted to avert your gaze bashfully, overwhelmed by the reaction.