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You would think not murdering anyone would be a given, but here we are.”
Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have a party to attend where I will most likely accidentally tell everyone what I’ve witnessed. I hope you didn’t expect me to keep this a secret. I have ADHD, so I tend to hyperfocus on things that confuse me. And this is very, very confusing.” “You can’t use that as an excuse—” “That’s ableist, and I won’t stand for it. Of course I can.”
“Your hair isn’t even real! I would know because I also wear a wig!”
“I have pepper spray, access to multiple marsupials, and snacks,”
I made the executive decision to nope outta that. My bad.
Honestly, I’m not sure of the etiquette when speaking to a stalker—” “What is wrong with you?” “Many things,” Nick said promptly. “Some are diagnosed, but others are still a mystery.
“Yikes,” Jazz said. “If you’re a telemarketer, you’re not doing a very good job. You need to be friendlier when you’re trying to sell us something.”
Also, he’s, like, a murderer.” He grimaced. “Unless that’s what you’re into. If so, I’d suggest checking yourself in to a hospital for a mental evaluation.
“We’re sitting in a kitchen,” Jazz said. “I don’t think we’re very good at hiding.”
“Though, a note, if you’re open to constructive criticism. Every fic author knows you need critical feedback in order to grow as a writer. Ready? Threatening to kill teenagers is extremely shitty, and not very mayoral.
“Gonna wing it, huh? That’ll be … fun. You want me to step in if you start talking about the mating habits of turtles?”
