“In five minutes.” Treble responds, misunderstanding Wilbur’s question and talking to it directly for the first time since they’ve met. She swerved right sharply, heading down a side road that winds through a sparse forest.
“Treble.” Herb grumbles as they are jolted into Wilbur’s side again. “We talked about this. Don’t make me get the bottles for the driving exercise again.”
Treble groaned. “Fiiiine.”
Herb turned to Wilbur. “So, I suggest you get something like Gatorade at the store. Or anything else, as long as it’s hydrating. Alcohol and sugary/carbonated drinks are off limits before a mocktion.”
The rest of the ride goes smoothly, with Marcelle nodding off in the front seat, Al staring blankly into space, and Herb drumming their fingers against the car door, bobbing their head to an inaudible beat.
Eventually, the trees became fewer and further in between, until they had exited the forest into some meadows— not lush by any means, it was actually rather depressing.
Somewhere amongst this muted, stumpy grass sat a little concrete convenience store, a perfect rectangular prism of flat sides and straight lines, save for the neon red “CHECKMART” sign blinking above the glass double-doors.
Treble drove the car into the empty parking lot, jostling the rest of the passengers yet again. “Whoo— I mean, oops!” For some odd reason, they glanced at Herb apologetically.
The rest of the passengers also were suddenly interested in the windows or the stitching of their seatbelts. The awkward moment passed as Treble parked haphazardly in between two parking spaces— the lot was empty, it was fine.
“We’re here!” They announced.
“‘scuse me.” Al mumbled as he nudged Wilbur to the side so he could unbuckle his seatbelt and step out of the van with a groan. “Marcelle, you paying?”
She stepped out of the van. “The hell you mean? I don’t have a wallet.”
“Well— neither do I! Herb revoked my treasurer pictures.”
they all turned to look at Herb, who had just found his discarded Squrgle on the car floor and was peeling back the outer wrapper and popping it into their out. “Oh yeah.” They mumbled, voice muffled as they chewed. “Forgot about that.”
Marcelle spluttered and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “How are we supposed to operate without a budget?”
“Don’t look at me, look at Al! He’s the one who decided to use our old stash to buy a cocktail dress and a cowboy hat.” Herb said.
Al stiffened as the attention was directed towards him. “Hey, the— my friend was getting married. The dress was for him.”
Marcelle snorted. “No it wasn’t.”
Al sighed. “No, it wasn’t..”
Treble looked from person to person as if they were surveying a tennis match. “So… are we killing the cashier?”
“Yeah. Guess we are.” Marcelle said, and Treble threw her arms up and cheered
“Uh huhhh...” Wilbur mumbled, clearly set on trying to grab an energy drink or two. Or four.
The brunette squints and looks at the mart confusedly, as there's really no reason for it to be there considering there is absolutely nothing around that gathers anyone. On fact she hasn't seen anyone else since they left.
Wilbur looks between the group as they bicker over the funds, about to pop in before quieting. He is in an embarrassing amount of debt and she doesn't even have a wallet. So that wouldn't be very helpful.
It splutters and looks to Al when mentioned, going through every possible excuse he could go through before just replying with a nod, “Slay queen! Girlboss moment.”
Wilbur's mouth gapes in disbelief at how quickly they settle on murder, looking around as if looking for another solution before just groaning and following them inside.
