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My Crown Is Called Deceit || Hunter & Randy

He could feel those icy blues hues boring holes in him, as he himself sat there doing absolutely any and everything he could to avoid looking up at the other until it was absolutely necessary. The tension was so thick it didn’t necessarily need a knife to be shattered, sending sparks of discomfort streaking through the C.O.O’s form; twisting his stomach into horrible knots. His jaw clenched, working furiously as his teeth began to grind a touch. The silence was unnerving, but thankfully broken by the forceful slamming of the door, followed by weighted footsteps. It sounded more like a bull was storming through his office, than a mere man. When at last he noticed the other had thrown himself into the chair that stood before the desk, his amber hues rolled away from the title, and slowly but surely made their way up to the younger man’s. “God damn it, Randy. It’s an angle.” surely he knew this already. He HAD to for Christ’s sake. “I DO have your back. There was nothing personal about that. It was just business.” how he loathed that phrase, and every single connotation it carried. But in this instance? It seemed to be the most fitting thing he could start off with. “Vince wants to draw this shit out. To make it as painful for everyone involved as possible. That’s why the belt isn’t around Bryan’s waist. That’s why I didn’t hand it back to you, when I took it from him. - It’s a WORK." no bullshit. No candy-coating it. In true Hunter fashion, he went straight for telling it like it is. And he knew well that Randy had never been one to buy the bullshit, to begin with. He figured the other would appreciate the blunt honesty, but there was always that chance that all he’d done was simply added more fuel to the fire.

#christ i'm sorry this sucks #para: my crown is called deceit #evolutionofthecerebralassassin

The very moment he had finished off speaking to Hunter, pretty much accusing him of betrayal, Randy's head turned slightly, his eyes now falling on that WWE Championship Title Belt, that obnoxious red that provided background for the the equally as obnoxious YES!YES!YES! practically burned holes into him. Tongue lashing out to swipe across his lower lip before violently grinding his teeth over it, he shook his head slowly. He had known it all along, oh did he know it; this story line was merely brought around to bring Randy's hopes up only to shatter them into a million and a half un-repairable pieces for the umpteenth time in that year alone. That just had to be it, right? Randy was probably one of the top screw-ups in the WWE's history, dating straight back to the days of the WWF. That much had to be obvious -- he was a screw up and he knew it. Always had someone sticking their neck out for him to protect his ass -- from Stephanie to Hunter to Ric to Dave to even some Divas who found him to be the most horrendous person they had ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with. Everyone was always sticking their neck out to save him, and this was simply Vince's way of providing punishment.

He had even become something of the McMahon's bitch over the past year, willingly tossing himself into these ridiculous, pointless, meaningless feuds with people for a simple heel turn. A heel turn he got. A WWE Championship run he got. He got more than he bargained for, and it was torn from him before he even got a chance to get used to this two hundredth chance. Hearing Hunter's voice brought him straight out of his trance, his head snapping roughly to face the source of the voice. "Oh, fuck business, Hunter!" he said, snapping up straight. "Explain to me how the fuck Dwayne got to keep the fucking belt for what? Three fucking months to promote a damn movie and go into some stupid ass match that everyone knew Cena would win anyways, but me? I just barely scrape a month. Explain to me what the fuck he got that I don't?" his eyes went wide as he looked at the man who always played the role of his superior. "Is this more punishment from Vince for how much of a fuck up I am? Are you just letting me have shit handed to me to be ripped away cause now you're fed up, too? Tell me right now Hunter...is this your way of punishing me even fucking more?" his brows shot up momentarily before falling back down, his eyes falling right back in to that piercing ice blue tint "Everyone says, 'oh Randy Orton is the McMahon's hand-picked guy, he'll never be able to do wrong. Everything that's going on proves it.' And damn do we know 'm far from the golden boy. So, how the fuck do I know for sure this shit isn't just blurring the lines so much that nobody knows what's what so I can get royally fucked?!"

It's Dark||+bornbetterx

Faith arched her eyebrow, a slow smile forming on her face. The Slayer ran a hand through her hair, her dark eyes locking with his. She shrugged just lightly. Her head turning as two shapes appeared in the darkness, just the hint of predatory yellow eyes could be seen. If he wasn’t going to leave he’d be freaked the hell out and she had zero fucks to give about that. She didn’t really answer him, but a light snarling noise drew her attention to the real predators, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, princess,.”

She shifted to face the two vampires, met them halfway across the empty street, “Well hey guys, come to show a girl a good time?” Faith said coyly as one of them chuckled dumbly, the other faltered a little, frowning and stepping back.

"She’s not running…or screaming…I think…we should…" he started but his companion was already too close she whipped her wooden stake out and tossed it end over end it landed square in the center of his chest. He exploded into dust and Faith moved swiftly to catch her weapon and face the other.

The fight was short lived, a short burst only catching a small glimpse of the fighter that the small woman really was and that vampire too was dust.

#sorry this took a few days! had kind of a life crisis #thenightsplutoniumshore

His brow rose at the sight of the yellow eyes. Well, that most certainly wasn't normal. Crossing his arms over his chest, he rose his brows upon hearing her nickname for him. "Princess, really?" he scoffed. Randy may have been what many others would refer to as a 'pretty' boy, because, it was hard to face the fact that he had some generally chiseled good looks, and most people found him attractive than not.

These two people, creatures...whatevers, seemed quite intimidating simply by their voice and the color of their eyes. Randy's arms stayed crossed along his chest as he watched, a bit of a look of shock crossing over his features when she saw her kill those two men with very little to absolutely no effort. He had hardly noticed them vanishing into dust, the idea of this stranger who had just practically threatened him just moments earlier killed people in front of him.

"What the fuck, man?" he exclaimed once it was all said and done. Considering his job and such, violence didn't necessarily bother him in the slightest, but, he had never seen someone kill someone else before in his entire life. "Did you fuckin' call me a princess so I'd walk away and not have to witness you murder a couple of dudes?!"

sober || randy + candice

candieswanepoelx

She could feel the tension in him, in the way he barely touched her as he undid her bra for her. The way he heaved a sigh and moved round to face her. She dropped her head so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in her features. Holding her bra up with her arm, she nodded, licking her lips gently to steady herself before answering him. “Yes, I’m fine. You can go.” She turned away from him, moving over to her bag, which was further away from humans the door, and crouching down, bending to her knees as she rummaged with one hand through her clothes, her back turned on him still.

She didn’t respond to anything further until she was finished changing and she was alone. The covers were scratchy against her bare legs but she slid in between them nonetheless. Cocooned in the warmth of the comforter, she felt no better; her eyes wouldn’t close, her head wouldn’t slow down its thoughts. She curled even more in on herself, knees coming up into her chest and her arms wrapping around them. She lay there, her eyes focused on the cheap crown molding that ran along the top of the wall and waited till she felt his familiar weight settle in beside her.

#here have some feels #some feels that suck #para: sober #candieincandyland

Making sure she absolutely didn't need him to continue on, he waited for a brief few moments. Once satisfied, he turned on his heel and made his way to the sliding doors, letting out a throaty groan as he felt the air come rushing into his lungs, almost as if it was suffocating him further. The air felt crisp, clean; certainly much better than the air and the disgusting, sick stench of the hospital. Being in there, they may as well as shoved a towel deep within his throat and let him just suffocate beneath them.

But, thankfully, he was here. Outside of his hotel, desperately trying to breathe all the oxygen he could, almost as if it was all for him, and him only. Leaning over the balcony, he rested his head in his hands, his eyes squeezed shut so tight that he was certain his lids would tear. He wanted to explain it to her, sure. But, he couldn't. He was messed up beyond repair and he knew that; the demons that he beat, who continued to haunt him despite his best efforts, were almost far too much to bear. Something he felt nobody -- nobody deserved to deal with. In his head, being with him meant baggage, and a whole lot of it. And he feared that all of that baggage would simply scare her right away. "Fuck." he finally uttered out, his voice came out choked, raspy, still as if he was being suffocated by someone, or rather something.

My Crown Is Called Deceit || Hunter & Randy

Fingertips drummed listlessly against the arms of the chair in which he was currently seated. Waiting. He loathed the delay in the inevitable. Each second tantamount to its own eternity. At the back of his mind, in the darkest recesses generally reserved for his more twisted, darker desires; lay a pool of guilt. Yes, it was scripted. Yes, a few weeks from now, Randy would more than likely have another shot at the title and this time he would keep it far longer. Of course, the ‘King’ would have a part to play; a reason to be exalted once again, when the title was returned to its rightful holder. He’d become so lost in his thoughts, that his grasp on time had slipped away. That was until he was so rudely brought back to the present, by the door being thrown nearly off its hinges. He needn’t look up. Nor had he needed to hear the other’s voice. “Randy.. close the door, then take a seat.” his tone bore no trace of the aggravation it would, had it been anyone else. The younger man’s rage was perfectly understandable, for he would have reacted in the exact same manner - merely a few years ago, himself.

#/wraps self around/#para: my crown is called deciet #evolutionofthecerebralassassin

Randy knew -- at least he partly knew -- that this was a storyline. None of it was all that legitimate. Of course, there had been a few things thrown into the mix that hinted at the actual happenings that occurred every so often in the back. But, considering he knew none of it was real, why had he unleashed so viciously on Mike? Why was he two seconds away from beating Hunter into kingdom come? Ice blue eyes turned dark with rage as he stood there in the open doorway, staring holes straight into the man who sat only a few feet in front of him. Something inside of him, some voice in his head was screaming 'betrayal!' every time he opened his eyes to see him sitting there. It screamed it louder the longer he stared.

When he heard his command, he was tempted to simply lay it down and tell Hunter 'go fuck yourself' and simply disobey, but he didn't. He wasn't about to do it quietly, though. Slamming the door, Randy marched over to the chairs in front of the desk, the stomping growing louder with every step that brought him closer. Dropping down harshly in the chair, he leaned back, his arms crossing tight over his chest and his head tilting to the side. "Now are you going to explain to me why the fuck you let them screw me like that, Hunter?" he growled, the air of anger that surrounded him now clearly laced in his voice. "You were supposed to have my fucking back."

My Crown Is Called Deceit || Hunter & Randy

The title sat folded reverently on the desk. Deep amber hues remained fixated upon it, as the stillness of the office was shattered by the heaving of an incredibly frustrated sigh. Hunter knew all too well that there would be hell to pay. And that at the moment, he was treading on borrowed time; for the Devil himself would soon come barging through that door, no more than eight and a half feet away from where he was currently seated. He knew Randy, better than he knew himself. It was not a question of IF. It was a question of WHEN. He’d not bothered to lock, or bar the door in any manner. He’d not asked for ‘guards’ to be posted at either side of the doorway, to deny the younger man entrance. No. It was almost as if he’d already made peace with his fate. He’d already accepted the oncoming storm of venom-edged rage. Hunter was no coward, despite the countless accusations to the contrary. However, he did indeed harbor the hope that he could talk some sense into the younger man. After all, it was scripted. Every last detail. Randy should know he would /never/ screw him over like that, for the hell of it. Personally..

#shh you're fine #everything is perf ok /pets #para: my crown is called deciet #evolutionofthecerebralassassin

Anger, disappointment, rage, sadness, every single negative emotion one could feel played out violently in the mind of the typically unstable Randy Orton. And if there was one person who knew and understood the feelings that Randy currently had racing through his head, it was Hunter. He knew that Randy felt disappointed, aggravated, and most of all, cheated -- for multiple reasons. First and foremost being that that that he had finally gotten his chance to prove he was worthy to represent the WWE on a more global standard, to show he was worthy of being a champion again following a two and a half plus year hiatus, and he was screwed right out of it.

Following a blind-rage fueled beating on the hometown boy, Miz, Randy stormed his way through the back, huffing and puffing the entirety of the way there. He wanted to know why he wasn't reinstated what he so rightfully deserved and earned through his taking advantage of an opportune moment. Randy wasted no time, he stormed straight into his superior's office, still red, sweating and angry. "Like I said before, what in the hell was that, Hunter?"

It's Dark||+bornbetterx

Faith arched an eyebrow, her head slowly turning to actually look at him. She pushed off of the light pole to face him completely, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow, “Who am I?” she said carefully, matching his snark, The one that’s going to have to clean up the mess you pompous jack ass! her mind screamed at him barely able to bite her tongue the words almost rolled off, but she squelched it down, if she said that he might think she was a cop or something, “Well, as charming as you are, I might be the one putting you in the ditch,” she chuckled softly,

Her face going from amused to dead serious as the sound of a trash can in an alleyway falling over caught her attention, and the hair on her neck stood on end, “You should get somewhere safe,” Faith mumbled absently.

#randal can be a littttttle bit of a rude ass so #i apologize for him in advance x)#thenightsplutoniumshore

By the time she had looked at him, he had both of his brows up and both arms crossed loosely over his chest. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he watched her, an almost predatory look embedded into his ice blue hues. Something was off about this stranger -- granted, the fact that she mentioned something about someone possibly tossing his dead body into a ditch within the first two seconds of even coming into contact with him might've tipped him off, but, nonetheless, there was something off. "As if I haven't heard something like that once or twice before in my life."

Randy's ears perked up slightly at the sudden noise, almost like a dog, and his head snapped towards the location of it. One of the perks of being a wrestler tended to be the fact that he had actually truly developed the sense and actions of a predator, he was likely more tuned to things than some others would be. "Part of me wants to disobey because you did just mention someone tossing my lifeless corpse into a ditch moments ago. Y'know, if ya already forgot."

Poppers and Butter || Kaitlyn and Randy

"Someone out there somewhere has probably died from a hose. They probably have it on that show 1000 Ways to Die. I never even considered most of the stuff on that show." She shrugged as she looked up at him. She’d been standing close enough to him while he rinsed himself off that water had splashed on her. "So, am I gonna drench myself or is this gonna turn into a strange rumor that spreads like wildfire over the internet. Randy Orton and Kaitlyn have strange public water party in Orton’s backyard, news on TMZ at 10." She chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry. I think this entire day is just me in the most bizarre mood ever."

"What the fuck is a thousna dways to die?" he questioned, his brows knitted together. Shaking his head, he looked down at himself to make sure he had gotten everything off before directing the hose at her. Thumb going over the spout to make it go in more of a spraying motion, he silently rolled his eyes. "Yeah, wouldn't want any of that on the news." he said, shaking his head slightly as he rubbed over his face. "That TMZ shit is annoying. All they ever do is harass you. Almost followed me into a bathroom once..."

Poppers and Butter || Kaitlyn and Randy

Squinting against the sun, Kaitlyn came out into the backyard. She couldn’t believe she was actually about to get down to her skivvies outside. Sure, she wore bikinis and stuff, but well, that was different, wasn’t it? Though, at least Randy had a large backyard. She didn’t think she had to worry too much about people seeing her. As he turned on the water, Kaitlyn quickly undressed, taking everything off and tossing the clothes to the side, until she was wearing only her bra and panties. ”Just try not to kill me with the hose, alright? You know that chick from Carrie got her ear drum busted because of a hose to the head.”

Holding his hand under the water to simply double check that the pressure wasn't too rough for the skin, Randy fiddled with the control wheel for a moment before holding the the tube over his head. His eyes shut, he couldn't see her come near him, and he hardly heard what she had said. Sputtering the water out from his mouth, he pulled the hose from his head. "Kill ya with the hose? Who the hell has ever died from a hose?"

#kaitlyntwotonediva

Poppers and Butter || Kaitlyn and Randy

She turned to look at him as he moved across the kitchen, heading toward the back door. “You seriously want me to strip down in your back yard so you can hose me off…” She shook her head and a little more flour came out. As she sneezed from the flour, she realized that yeah, he did have a point. There would have been flour all over the place if she tried to make it to the bathroom. ”Fine, I guess you have a point.” She followed him out the back and squinted almost vampire style at the brightness. ”Jeez, it wasn’t this bright when I first got here.”

"Hell yeah 'm expecting you to take your shit off so I can hose ya down, too." he said with a slight grin. Making his way over to the hose, he quietly stripping down to his boxer briefs as he waited for her to make her way over. Keeping his eye out for her to come around near him, he leaned over to unravel his hose enough to hold out like a shower. Leaning further, he turned the water on, keeping his eyes on it to see how much pressure he wanted to use with it.

happy birthday to you || randy + candice

candieswanepoelx

She laughed a bit, nodding at Elaine as she spoke. “You know, I definitely understand that. He can be a bit of a handful when he wants to be.” She brushed her hair back from her face, sweeping it back into a low ponytail since it kept coming wildly down around her face. She kept pace with his parents, not in a hurry or anything. “Of course we butt heads sometimes… I’m a little stubborn as is he…” She let out another laugh, stepping into the elevator beside Randy. She felt a bit odd that she couldn’t lean into him or touch him, even something as simple as holding his hand. But Alanna knew her as only a friend for now, and friends didn’t do things like that.

#para: happy birthday to you #candieincandyland

Elaine simply laughed at Candice's comment, a knowing smile coming across her lips; oh, was he son the biggest pain in the neck the world could ever see whenever he wanted to be. "I don't know if anyone can be quite as stubborn as Randy." his father spoke up, his eyes going wide as a short shake of the head left him. "I love my boy, but, he was a pain in my ass to work with back in '06. Everythin' had to be Randy's way or the highway." he said, shaking his head before quieting down once they reached the elevator. On the way down, Randy simply tuned the rest of the group out, merely giving one-hundred percent of his attention to his daughter, who seemed to be enjoying it. Once they reached the lobby, Randy swapped arms so he could dig in his pocket for the car keys before once again, taking off in front of them to lead them to the rental car so they could get going.

here-she-comes-again-deactivate

@bornbetterx

here-she-comes-again-deactivate

She’d forgotten how busy the backstage area was, there were numerous sound crew running around, a couple superstars, hell she’d even seen her old costume designer (she truly missed working with her). She truly wanted to be happy, to be herself but she couldn’t and it drove her crazy. People expected bubbly, smily, Maria but she couldn’t deliver. Looking up at him she could tell he wished to speak more on the subject, she wasn’t surprised really. It was inevitable, the whole roster would eventually find out.

She nodded her head, he just didn’t look like a face, Randy Orton was all heel and it worked extremely well for him. Though she did secretly miss his hair from his younger years, it was so strange speaking to the Viper and not the Legend Killer. “A lot of people are glad heel Orton is back, I may be one of those people.” She shrugged, heel Orton was so exciting to watch. “I do miss the spiky hair though.” She ran her hand through her own hair out of habit.

Her eyebrows shot up as soon as he finished speaking, she hadn’t anticipated for him to want to go out and speak with her though she was entirely grateful. This was what she needed and for it to be with a friendly face, well she was glad. She nodded her head, a genuine smile on her face. “Really? Thank you Randy. I promise not to bore you too much.” She chuckled, waiting for him to lead the way to his locker room.

His hand rose up to come up and scratch over his own, cropped hair as he looked at her. Those days with spiky hair and a completely over cocky attitude that she had practically brought up by the mention of his formerly spiky hair seemed so far away. "I grew my hair out last year and I felt so strange...I gotta tell ya, I felt like I looked shitty." he shrugged slightly.

"Nah don't worry about it..you're fine. Ya seem like ya need to get some shut off of your chest anyways." he said with a small grin. He could see it in her face, she looked as if she needed someone to talk to, she didn't seem her self -- at least from the last time he had saw her, which was a few years ago, so, who knew how things had changed from then?

Adjusting the belt on his shoulder, he began to walk past her a little bit, urging her to follow suit. "C'mon, my locker room is this way." he said, leading her down to where it was before walking right up to the door where he held it open for her. "You can just wait out in this room while I go take a quick shower...y'know, so I don't stink up the place later."

#hereshecomesagain

Poppers and Butter || Kaitlyn and Randy

Kaitlyn kept loading and unloading poppers as Randy moved in the kitchen, going into the cabinet. She barely heard him talking, but she was pretty sure he said that he’d help her clean. Which was great. It would go a lot quicker with two than one. When he pulled down the flour, she let out an excited, “Yes!” She didn’t know why this whole thing was making her so giddy, just that it gave her a sense of girlish excitement she hadn’t had since she stopped hanging out exclusively with AJ. She listened to him talk about his daughter and smiled. ”Ya know, I can almost picture you moving around in here, only half knowing what you’re doing, but going at it anyway, ‘cause of her. It’s cute.” She took the flour from him and turned to the counter again. She pulled out the last batch of poppers, dropping them down on the paper towel covered plate, then turned off the fryer. Turning back to Randy, she said, “Hose down?” She laughed. ”Like prison but without the creepy guards.” She nodded. ”Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

Walking over to one of the only clean counters, he gingerly placed it down, turning to look at her in an effort to make sure that she wouldn't come after him to dump this bag on him too and make even more of a mess. "Of course hose down." he responded, his brows risen as he turned to her completely, making his way over to the back door, urging her to come over by him and follow him out, "You think 'm gonna let you walk to my bathroom to shower with all of that flour and shit on you? Get the hell out of here. Make even more of a mess." he said, shaking his head as he began to make his way out into the rather warm, sunny atmosphere of his back yard. "God damn..." he muttered, his eyes squinting up a bit at the brightness of the sun.

sober || randy + candice

candieswanepoelx

John walked with them, neatly placing himself between the couple and the few guests and photogs that were grouped in the lobby. She felt incredibly tiny between the two hulking men that guarded her. Her phone buzzed again, reminding her that she had messages waiting for her answer. On the walk up to the lobby, Candice had received a few texts and emails from her publicist, claiming that someone had seen her getting into an ambulance. With one was attached a hazy photo of her, clearly hastily taken, Randy’s hand on her lower back as the EMTs helped her into the ambulance. A calm sort of anger had settled over her after she’d seen that, and she stayed quiet and hidden in front of John and Randy, not wanting to say a word.

As they reached the room, Candice turned and moved towards John, giving him a tight, albeit one armed, hug and a light kiss on the cheek. “Thank you….” She mumbled, giving him her best attempt at a smile before Randy led her into the room and they parted ways with his coworker. With the door shut and his question hanging in the air, Candice used her good hand to carefully pull off her shirt. “I want to sleep, Randy…” She mumbled, sighing a bit. With her back to him, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes tired and stinging. “Do you mind… My bra… I can’t do it with this hand…” She gestured with her left hand; it was the right that was her main hand which meant that was the injured one. Truth be told, she could probably just sleep in it and wait till morning, but she wanted to know if things were okay between them. Everything she’d need to know would be said in what he did next and how he did it.

#wow im sorry this is really short #para: sober #candieincandyland

His eyes shut and a sigh of relief came from between his lips when she had said she merely wanted to sleep. Thank Christ. He still had time to remain silent about everything, to pretend nothing had happened and that she had simply hurt herself due to other reasons that weren't him. But when she had asked him to undo her bra, he let out one of the most inaudible sighs he could manage before pushing himself off of the door he was previously leaning up against.

Slowly making his way over to her, he stopped behind her and tookm a deep breath before carefully unhooking her bra from itself. Shaking his head, he couldn't help but wonder why bras needed to be the way they were, so complicated looking. Pulling back from her, he walked around to her front. "You got the rest? Just go on in bed, 'm gonna go sit outside for a bit. I need some air, I feel like 'm being suffocated. I'll meet you in a few."

Poppers and Butter || Kaitlyn and Randy

"So, you’re going to hold me accountable, okay." She nodded her head slowly. "Alright, fine. I’ll take that. And I’ll even clean." As he took the fried pepper and popped it in his mouth, Kaitlyn looked around the kitchen. Before the flour fight, the place had been immaculate, the counters clear, the floor clean, no dishes anywhere but in the cabinets. Her own kitchen had things on the counter, gadgets used to make random meals. They sat clean and cold while she was gone, but when she returned, they got use. She ate at so many restaurants while she was out, she really only wanted to eat her own food when she came home. "You don’t cook much, do you?" she asked him, turning back to look at him. Shaking her head, she said, "You can look. If you don’t have any, I guess you just get to avoid the battered dipped and deep friend goodness. But yeah, um… I’ll clean it all up." She looked down at herself and sighed. She really should have brought a change of clothes. She hadn’t thought about what she was going to do once she was a mess with the whole food fight thing.

#kaitlyntwotonediva #para: poppers and butter

"Of course I am." he said with a chuckle. His eyes dropped again, surveying the damage that was actually done with a better precision. With a small grunt, he pushed himself off of the counter and walked towards one of the cabinets to open it up and fish through it. "You don't have to clean by yourself y'know. 'm gonna help you." he responded, his voice coming out almost muffled by his voice having to bounce back out through the cabinet to her. Muttering to himself some sort of jackpot! term when he actually found a small bag of flour, he pulled it out and turned towards her, holding the bag up triumphantly as he did. "And no, I don't cook /that/ often. And, if I do, s'usually nothing that requires flour. Usually more simple shit, kid friendly stuff that I know Alanna would like." he explained, a faint smile spread onto his mouth at the mention of his daughter. "Let's clean this shit up, maybe hose off in the back and you can wear something of mine while I toss this dirty shit in the laundry and we'll keep on doing whatever we gotta do, yeah?"

Poppers and Butter || Kaitlyn and Randy

She wasn’t sure why, but when she was preparing for the food fight, Kaitlyn felt less nervous, less like she was some place she didn’t belong. It was a moment of her just being herself without fear that herself was going to be something wrong. She shrugged as she said, “Not gonna lie, I was gonna start the fight. But, intent doesn’t count if I didn’t get to start it.” She grinned at him as he hopped down from the counter. At his question, she looked around. The majority of the flour was on the floor, and most of what had been in the bowl was now all over Randy and the floor. Shaking her head, Kaitlyn said, “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to get more flour before I can make anything else.” She took a bite of one of the poppers, which was now much cooler, though the cheese inside was still pretty hot, then turned the rest of it toward Randy. ”Now, open up.”

Randy's arms came up to fold loosely across his chest as he looked at the two-toned diva. His brows were both up in almost a cocky way; in a way to say something like I told ya so as he watched her let the words he spoke process through her head. It was almost funny to him. In fact, practically the whole situation he had found himself in with her was funny to him. "Intent completely does count." he said, his head tilting as he continued to watch her. When he noticed her look around, he began to allow his own eyes to scan around the room, a disgruntled noise escaping from between his lips; this was going to be a bitch to clean up. Shaking his head slightly, he brought his attention back to her now approaching form. "They use intent in court when they nab a psycho. Got a weapon on 'em with the intent to kill." he chuckled, shrugging before grabbing the popper from her to drop into his own mouth. "I might have a little more left, 'm not sure, considering I never actually need, or use, flour. But, I can look."