Ninjas of Love

Charlie Tries To Regain His Pride

"Yang, I'm not going to come with you for some sort of quickie." Emily pre-warned the feisty blonde as she was pulled to her feet by Yang's muscly arm that somewhat resembled a leg of lamb. "A what?" The fiery girl with the large chest asked, utterly bemused by her calmer, flatter girlfriend's phrasing. "A quickie. Patchian slang for quick, casual sex." Emily explained, as Yang looked somewhat disappointed in herself- quite possibly for not knowing a word for sex in any language or dialect. Yang's mind had three favourite things to focus on. Sex, puns, and punching things very hard.

"Well, I wasn't going to fuck you in front of Weiss!" Yang pointed out. "Bathroom. Come on." Her orders were short and sweet, but left absolutely no chance of misinterpretation on the part of the often confused brunette. Said brunette very closely followed Yang into the bathroom, and felt a muscle-bound arm close the door behind them firmly.

The bathroom was tiled, ceiling to floor, wall to wall, with dazzlingly white tiles that reflected the light from the single bulb on the also-white ceiling a little too well, so much so that it hurt Em's eyes to even be in the room for too long. "What did you want with me in here?" Emily asked, innocently. Yang responded with a seductive growl of "Get in the fucking shower."

Emily did as asked and placed a hand onto her jacket before Yang simply shook her head and Emily, almost instinctively, stopped dead in her tracks. "Emily, sweetie," Yang's voice switched back to an almost disturbingly kindly-sounding, feminine pitch, "you haven't showered since you got here. And we have a very, very slippy shower, while you have very, very shitty knees. I would like to help you this time, if that's alright with you, so you can get a feel for it and don't hurt yourself. As even a fool like your friend Kerian can work out, that'll involve me touching you to clean my juices and sweat off you. Is that alright?" Emily deliberated for a moment or two before a decisive "yep" slipped out of her mouth, rushing ahead of her brain. "Ok. I'm gonna turn the shower on and begin to moisten you good and proper. Let me know if you need any help."

In the living room, the once octet had been severely reduced to just four students. Weiss had gone to bed, Yang and Emily were getting up to goodness-knows-what in the bathroom, and Blake had also scuttled off to the actual bedroom part of the dormitory, and was now huddled up with a dim torch in one hand, and a well-thumbed book in the other. That left Billy, Charlie, Kerian, and Ruby in the living room. Let me tell you, dear reader, that there is a great cause for concern whenever Charlie Copson, a young man who once arranged hay bales on the family farm in such a manner that they spelt "libtards" from the air, is, by a long way, the most mature person in any given room.

Billy wasted no time in reacquainting himself with his newest item of great interest, his scroll. Of course, it was once a scroll. It now had so many homemade add-ons and so much extra storage space it resembled something that, if it were to be carried into an airport, would more than likely lead to the bearer's swift arrest. For once, however, he was not compulsively taking it part and reassembling it, with some minimal tinkering done to improve the performance of the tinny CPU. Instead, he was browsing all sorts of Menageriese shopping sites, hoping to find some tat of questionable origin that he would press a button to force a half-centipede slave to box up and send to him. Or something like that.

Kerian was doing, well, he was certainly doing something. He was staring off into nothing in particular in the middle-distance, almost as if he were completely dissociating. Even more peculiar than his blank face, however, was his legs- or more specifically the strange motion that was going on in them. They were jiggling up and down, causing Kerian to almost bounce on the spot in his armchair. In typical Kerian Furry fashion, they were remarkably out of sync, and also incredibly badly balanced in terms of power, so his head was almost jutting out diagonally and in such a way it gave the impression of dropping frames.

Charlie reached one calloused hand under the coffee table and pulled out a battered-up, olive-green box. He looked up towards Ruby with a knowing smirk and the redhead, like clockwork, threw herself from her chair to the end of the coffee table, ready to open up the box. Charlie took the lid off carefully, at least enough so as not to damage it, and pulled out the large board and velvet bag of tiles inside. He handed seven to himself, and seven to the girl two years his junior. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, Charlie is the sort of guy to challenge a much younger girl to a game of Scrabble just to rack up a win, and ease the pain of his still-smarting ego after the previous day's loss to his sister.

Ruby, much to Charlie's shock and awe, immediately picked up all seven of her tiles, and- with a deliberately inflammatory wink- placed down the word "asexual" before writing down her score on the notes tab of her trusty iScroll 4.

Charlie looked at his distressingly unhelpful array of consonants of vowels. So this, he thought to himself, is what it must be like to have dyslexia. He scratched briefly at his stubbly chin, before moving his tiles around on the provided stand. With a triumphant scream, he placed down four tiles around the "e" of "asexual", to create the word "bream". He had done this, unbeknownst to him, just as Yang had finished drying off Emily's damp body with a towel.