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Simon uncoiled himself from the chair, rising to his full height of five-foot-nothing to coolly observe his inventus. “Oh? Am I to be included in your schemes now, Wolfgang? Tres merveilleux! I’ve been deemed worthy of such an honor. C’est des conneries… casse-toi…” Our Mafia Queen then stomped off in the direction of Wolfy’s office, muttering in agitated French and leaving our leader to close his eyes and sigh. Ziggy barked a laugh. “Oh, Simon’s definitely one of ours—without a doubt. How about I give you some pointers once we’re done ensuring no one kills each other, hmm?”
Then he clapped Wolfy on the back good-naturedly. And we all froze. But then, nothing happened. Well. Fuck.
Blood is thicker than murder. But murder doesn’t hurt.
Butt Pirate: Stop sexting in the group chat.
The Mouthy One: It will be an all male revue (including male identifying, obviously) with everyone dressed in the sluttiest little supe gear. You know… like what old-school lady supes wear for some ridiculous reason.
The Mouthy One: Apparently, Zion’s favorite dancer… the mother of his child, in fact… Butt Pirate: I’M GONNA POUND YOU INTO THE GROUND, XANNY!!! The Mouthy One: …performed as none other than BLUNT FORCE! Methinks someone had a crush on our Baby Hulk for a while, hmm? Lizard Dick: Heh. You got me.
Clan Daddy: Perhaps. Maybe I knew full well Zion had feelings for Balty, and suspected Baby Hulk felt the same. Maybe I decided to set up some forced proximity through his engagement with Dahlia. Butt Pirate: What. Lizard Dick: What? The Mafia Queen: WHAT?! The Mouthy One: [Popcorn emoji]
