"I will get the food," Fossa says, quickly rising from his chair. "You can't be trusted."
"Wh-- how could I possibly fuck up reheating leftovers?!"
"You are already holding the hot sauce."
Curiel does a dramatic double-take, as if startled by the sudden appearance of the bottle in his hand. Then he tucks it behind his back like a child with stolen candy.
Blenheim, too drained to rag on him, stays slumped against the table, muffling his laugh against his forearms.
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Painkillers are for the weak or the deserving, and Jiru has never been either.
"I don't need them," he says.
Marco meets his eyes with way too much gravitas for a guy who's still only a medical trainee. "If you were prescribed them, it's because you need them, yoi."
"I don't. My pain is manageable."
Tate steeples her fingers the way she does when she's considering violence. "You do not and should not need to manage it," she says, which is an absolutely incomprehensible statement.
"I've never taken them before."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because now Marco looks sad. Absolute poor unloved baby bird in the rain eyes.
"We know, Jiru," he says. "We know."
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Rakyuo lets out a groan of actual, physical pain and drops his face into his hands. None of his nearby siblings even bother to pretend not to laugh, the assholes.
In the most fed-up-with-your-bullshit voice he can muster, he bites out “Yes, wife?”
Vista absolutely notices the venom in his tone, but he doesn’t bother acknowledging it, because Rakuyo is surrounded by traitors and vultures and he gets zero respect on this goddamn ship. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness for a crime I haven’t yet committed.”
“Infidelity,” Vista says, solemnly. He puts a hand over his heart and everything. Rakuyo is going to strangle him with his own mustache.
“Quite extreme infidelity I’m afraid. Though my heart belongs only to you,” (Rakuyo rolls his eyes hard enough it actually aches a little) “I will be cheating on you very soon.”
Maybe if Rakuyo jumped in the sea he could escape this. Or, oh, actually, maybe Red Hair would be open to taking him in? Ugh, no, he can’t even think that without breaking out into hives, goddamn it.
“God — fucking — okay,” Rakuyo groans. “Fine. Why?”
“Because,” Vista growls. He’s glaring over Rakuyo’s shoulder in the direction of the Red Force like he’s trying to set the ship on fire with his brain. “After I kill Yassop, I am going to fuck the entire front row of his funeral.”
“Someday you’re gonna tell me what he did to piss you off so much.”
“Someday I will kill him and then he won’t piss me off anymore!”
“You do that. I’m getting a refill.”
Vista stops glaring at the Red Force to scowl at him instead. “You’re a terrible husband.”
“Good,” Rakuyo says. “Please divorce me. Free me from your bullshit.”
“You love being married to me and you know it.”
“Every day I wake up and fantasize about becoming a widower.”
“Is that not the nature of marriage?” Vista asks, twirling his mustache all smug. “Spending the rest of your life with someone you want to kill, but not doing it because you’d miss them?”
Rakuyo, trudging back to where the barrels are set up, refuses to answer him. And no, it’s not because he’s right.
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"Oh, well, that's simple enough. I compared the pros and cons of letting you keep attacking Pops verses simply slitting your throat in your sleep, and the contents of Column A were significantly longer than that of Column B--"
Ace makes a sound not unlike a furious cat. He yowls "You made a fucking. Spreadsheet. Of wether or not to kill me?!"
Jiru blinks. "I make spreadsheets about everything."
