Quoted By:
Yea, you reply–you need him to stow away more often! It was good seeing him after, what, three updates?
“A few more than that, but I appreciate da’ sentiment, kid.” Tousling your <span class="mu-b">WOLF CUT,</span> the greaser gives your new ‘do a nod of approval. “Lookin’ keen, by the way–almost didn’t recognize ya’ when I got outta the rig!” The skeleton glances at your pals milling around and shoots you a conspiratorial glance. “Hey, uh, if any of these guys ya’ got hangin’ around bother ya, you let your big bros know, alright?”
He grins at you, but the word ‘<span class="mu-i">bro</span>’ sends a haunting shiver down your spine. <span class="mu-i">Right</span> when you weren’t thinking about it…
“Errr, an’ by that I mean Wyatt, Cliff, an’ yours truly!” Stripes clarifies while jerking a thumb towards his smug face! “Mostly me though, dig?”
Y-yea, you stammer, recovering from your thoughts, you dig! With one last friendly shake of your shoulder, the greaser hops into the passenger’s seat as Paulie whistles for the others!
“Seeya at the party, kid!” Stripes shouts, winking at you from the passenger window! “Dress ta’ impress!”
As promptly as it arrived, Paulie’s big rig rips free of the parking lot with a triumphant roar of its horn! Watching them depart, a wide grin settles on your face and lingers there long after the truck rides off into the sunrise.
“Hard to believe they were traveling with us only a few days ago…”
Feeling a light hand rest on your shoulder, you turn to find Sybil with a much healthier, but still pale, Sybil fixing her hair at your side. “A shame they left so quickly.”
Holy <span class="mu-i">crap</span>, you mutter in disbelief–is that <span class="mu-i">HER?</span> A few seconds ago you were prepared to give her a desert burial! Softly giggling at your words, The Goth produces an empty, but familiar can of <span class="mu-g">HANGOVER HELPER</span> from her side! “Not this time! That beverage restored me almost immediately–in fact, I’d wager I’m about one-hundred perce<span class="mu-g">BBLLLLLUUUUUAUAAAAAAUUUUGGHHH!</span>”
Violently spewing what little remains in her guts onto the pavement in front of you, your pal recovers a moment after and daintily wipes her face clean with a black and red handkerchief from her pocket.
“Pardon me… let’s wager <span class="mu-i">ninety</span> percent, shall we?”
Yea, you nod as you check your pants and boots for any splashage, let’s go with that…
>CONTD.
