#I think Nightmare's boys pass a helium balloon around and take turns trying to get Cross to laugh

[somegrumpynerd]

Even though they don't have lungs, do you think skeleton monsters can still use helium to do funny voices? It would be an absolute tragedy for classic Sans if he couldn't but also I think all the au guys should get to do it too, for goofs

[freddie-roger-brian-john]

And they were roommates

A/N - sorry @casafrass , I accidentally deleted your request but here we are, a classic bed sharing fic. (Btw sorry if there isn’t a read more link, tumblr being weird atm. I know having to scroll past really long posts is annoying whoop)

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, cliche

Word count - 4K (longest one yet ahh)

Pairing - Joe!John Deacon x f!reader

——————

It was just one of those days. It was a day where everything little thing had gone wrong. Y/N had slept through her alarm, lost her hairbrush, her makeup hadn't come out right, the snow had soaked through her shoes, arrived at the airport late, almost missed her flight, was seated next to a mother and crying child, and the turbulence had felt like the plane was going to go down.

She was at the point where the smallest thing, even something like the strap of her handbag falling off her shoulder, would've caused tears to fill her eyes.

But, she was in America for a good reason - at least, that's what she kept telling herself. She's here to attend a joyous event where the only crying should be that of extreme glee for the two people standing at the alter.

[[MORE]]

One of her best friends, Roger Taylor, was getting married to her other best friend. She knew she was going to be maid of honour before the bride to be had even asked and so, she had accepted with grin and anticipation for the big day.

But now? Now she was wishing the pair could've just gotten married back in London.

"Oh thank god, you're here!" Roger called out as he saw Y/N walk through the hotel doors, snow in her hair, luggage in her hands, and a grimace on her face. The porter took her suitcase and bags from her and, once she was free from the burden of travelling with a 'just in case' attitude, Roger brought her into a hug.

"Christ, your coat's soaked through," he commented as her clothes sent a shiver down his spine. "You must be freezing."

"You have no idea," she told him. "The snow's up to my knees now. Why the hell did you have to have a winter wedding? Why couldn't you have gotten married in the spring like everyone else."

He smiled teasingly at your obviously horrid mood.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" He grinned. "Here, take my jacket." He took off his fur coat and, after Y/N had peeled off her own, wrapped it around her. It immediately sent warmth running up and down her body and Roger could practically hear the 'thank you' in her closed eyes and soft smile.

"And how's the fiancée?" Y/N asked. Roger's smile fell.

"Ah, well, a little stressed to be completely honest with you," he admitted. "Your's was the last flight to land here. The snow's gotten so bad that nothing else is taking off or landing."

"Shit," she said in response. "Are most of the guests here?"

"Well yes, but unfortunately that causes a whole other problem," Roger explained. "With all the people stranded in the airport and such a big party taking up rooms in the hotel, some people are going to have to double up."

This was it. This was the small thing that was going to make her cry. She shook her head, eyes to the sky, and tried to hold back.

"Well that's great," she huffed. "Please tell me I've got a decent roommate." Roger shrugged.

"The hotel's done it randomly to make things easier," he told her. "Thankfully, me and the future wife got a room together so we're all good."

"So I've most likely got a random tourist to cosy up with?" Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes with exhaustion.

"You might get a fellow guest?" Roger tried to offer some comfort. "What room are you in? I might know who's with you." Y/N doubted her luck would be that good after such a dismal day.

"Room 46," she said, no hope evident in her voice. Roger's eyes widened. "What?"

"Nothing," He assured her, though he sounded like a child who had just been caught stealing a biscuit.

"Roger," she said sternly. He sighed, his wide eyes closing.

"I don't want to say," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to hit me."

But Y/N knew who it was. She could see the answer in Roger's apprehensive stance. She could tell from the way he almost coward away from her.

Her roomie was John Deacon.

She walked right passed Roger, her shoulder accidentally hitting his as she stormed off towards the lift that would take her to the room of her nightmares.

If there was a stairway to heaven, then this was definitely her elevator to hell.

When she opened the door to room 46, Mr Deacon himself was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, facing the window. He turned at the sound of the door slamming.

"No," he said upon seeing Y/N, her hair still soaked in snow and dawning Roger's fur coat. "No fucking way, there no chance-"

"Yeah, think like that for about five minutes and you'll be where I am right now," she huffed.

John's face fell into his hands.

The pair hadn't always hated each other. In fact, there had been a time, right after Roger had introduced the two of them, where most people would've bet good money that they would start dating. However, things, as they do often do, didn't go to plan.

Conversation had turned to bickering, bickering had turned into arguments, and eventually, the two couldn't even be in the same room without screaming at each other over seemingly the smallest things. As she looked at John now, she couldn't help but recall the time she had dropped an ice cube in his kitchen, which he then accidentally stepped in with socks on. She thought she might have gone deaf with the screaming match that had led to.

Y/N didn't even know how their friendship had disintegrated. It had been like someone had flipped a switch in their minds. Her love for the boy had turned into our hatred and she knew he felt the same.

"Is there no way we can switch with someone?" John asked, his voice almost pleading. Y/N wanted to think that was a possibility but she knew the hotel staff would be too busy to sort something out and all the guests would be far to exhausted to move any belongings to a different room.

"I don't think there's enough money in the world to convince someone to share with you," she told him. He rolled his eyes.

"Good one," he said sarcastically. "And people wonder why I don't like you."

"Oh please," she said, "enlighten me." He looked at her with red burning through the brown of his eyes.

"Well it's not exactly going to be because of your winning personality, is it?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh just shut it," Y/N huffed, throwing off Roger's coat and hanging it up. "Look, all we have to do is spend one night in the same room. Assuming the blizzard doesn't snow us in, we'll be out by tomorrow and then all we have to do is get to the wedding without killing each other or ourselves."

"Fine," He said. "You can just stay on your side of the room and I'll stay on mine."

"Fine." Y/N went to set her things down on her bed but the sight before her instead acting as the breaking point.

She started to cry.

"Fuck!" She shouted. "Fuck everything! Fuck the wedding, fuck the hotel, fuck mother-fucking-nature!"

"What? What is it?" John demanded, jumping to his feet, the ghost of actual concern on his face.

"Fucking look around, you idiot!" She shouted. John did a 360' of the room and quickly saw what had pushed Y/N over the edge.

"You've got to be kidding," he said, his head returning to his hands. "You've got to be fucking kidding!"

Yep, that's right. There was only one bed.

"Right, I get that it's shitty but there no need to cry over it," John told her.

If looks could kill, John Deacon would have been decapitated in that moment.

He actually took a step backwards. That's how much Y/N glared at him.

"It doesn't matter anyway," John continued, his voice however, considerably softer. "You take the bed, they've probably got some extra blankets at the front desk."

The glare smashed like a dropped wine glass.

"Where are you gonna sleep?" She asked him, confused by this sudden act of generosity of John's part. He shrugged.

"I'll be fine on the floor," he told her.

How was this the same man from a minute before? The John she knew would fight her to the death for the better seat on a couch, never mind a bed to sleep in.

"You can't sleep on the floor," she said.

"You got a better idea?"

Y/N couldn't believe she was even considering this. She looked at the bed and then back at John.

"I mean, it is a double bed," she said. "It's not like we wouldn't be able to both fit on it?"

John seemed to be going through the same motion that she had when he had offered to sleep on the floor.

"What? You mean share it?" He asked. She nodded, though it felt like a helium balloon had been tied to her head to try and stop it from shaking up and down. "I mean, I guess."

She sighed. She had been secretly hoping he wouldn't take her up on her offer.

"Sure," He said more confidently. "I really didn't want to sleep on the floor." Y/N's brows furrowed.

"Then why did you offer?" John shrugged.

"Right thing to do, I suppose."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't quite sure how she felt about the whole situation. However, her exhaustion outweighed her confusion and mixed emotions. She clapped her hands together.

"Right then," she said. "I'm gonna go get changed into my pyjamas. I'll be back in a sec."

She brought her bag with her into the small bathroom and set it down on the counter so she could look through it.

"No," she muttered to herself. There was no way she could be so stupid as to leave all but one pair of pyjamas in her bedroom back in London. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

She held up the only pair she had brought.

Every girl has a special outfit that she wears to make herself feel better. Or perhaps it was a pretty bra or a particularly lacy thong that managed to be as comfortable as it was lovely. For Y/N, she had a pair of pyjamas. They were her 'I'm sexy and I know it' pyjamas.

They were comprised of shorts that were basically pants, and a top that was basically a bra. The fabric was a thin satin with lace around the hems and to top it all off, they were pink.

She looked at herself in the mirror. These were pyjamas only a girl and her partner should see. Not a girl and her old frenemy.

However, it was all she had.

She stepped out of the bathroom to find John standing in a baggy shirt, his thick pyjama bottoms hidden breath the covers of the bed. He did a double take when he saw her.

"Sorry," she said before he could comment. "I didn't think I'd be sharing a bed with someone so this is all I have."

John shook his head.

"No, it's..." he shook his head as if to clear it. "It's fine."

Although Y/N was extremely embarrassed by the whole situation, she did find a little amusement in the redness of John's cheeks as she climbed into bed next to him.

John turned off the lamp by his side of the bed and the two were plunged into darkness. They both made sure to stay as far away from each other as possible, John almost fell of the bed at one point.

Although it would've been difficult for him to fall asleep regardless, what made things far more difficult was something that he couldn't help but notice.

Y/N was shaking almost uncontrollably. He could tell she was trying to hold back her movement but to unfortunately no avail. As he looked at her more closely, he saw goosebumps all over her skin.

And then her teeth began to chatter.

"Fucking hell," John muttered to himself, causing the still conscious Y/N to open her eyes.

"What?" She asked, a scowl becoming evident on her face.

"Can't you keep still?" He asked her, propping himself up on his elbow. "It's pretty tricky to sleep with you shivering like that."

"It's not like you can control shivering," she spat back.

"But I can't sleep with you moving," he complained. She too propped herself up and looked at him with an exasperated expression.

"What d'you want me to do about it?" She demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, it's fucking freezing and these pyjamas aren't exactly helping."

"It's not my fault you were stupid enough to leave all your others at home," he muttered to himself.

"Oh my god!" Y/N groaned. "Just shut up. I don't want to hear your complaining or your nitpicking, or your judging! I'm sick of it, John!" She sat up fully and sighed into her hands. "I can't do this."

She swung her legs off the bed and grabbed her pillow.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Well I can't sleep on this bed with you, can I?" She said. "Can't have me ruining your beauty sleep, can we? God forbid I'm a little cold."

He watched as she set her pillow down on the floor and laid her head down on it. She then closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep. John would've let her stay down there had it not been for the guilt in his chest as he heard her teeth chattering even louder than before. He peered over the edge of the bed and saw her shivering so much that the friction against the carpet could've lit a small fire.

"You can't sleep on the floor," John finally said.

"Yes I can."

"You're freezing," he pointed out. "Just come back to the bed and get under the covers."

"But then you'll be distracted by my shivering," she said. "I know how annoying this must be for you." John actually had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from snapping back. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down.

"Look," He said. "Just come back into the bed." She opened one eye and saw him looking down at her.

"Say please," she told him. John could feel his face getting hotter.

"Please," He said through gritted teeth. She smirked, finally having won a small battle. As promised, she climbed back under the covers, feeling as smug as was possible in this temperature.

But the smugness quickly froze on her face and fell like an icicle from a gutter.

"John," she said, her voice quiet. John opened his eyes and stared at the back of her head.

"What is it now?"

She took a deep breath. "Please know I'm only saying this because I'm just that fucking cold," she told him. John raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm just thinking that maybe if we were a bit closer, our body heat would warm us both up a little."

"Oh," John faltered. "Right - um - I suppose that makes sense." Y/N could feel the mattress move and he shifted closer to her. "Um... you mean like this?" He was lying behind her, his chest a few inches from her back.

"Um, not exactly," she said. "I kind of meant like..." she screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. "Like spooning."

If John had been drinking, he would've spat it out.

"Spooning?"

"Yeah. I know you've probably never had the opportunity to do it before but-"

"Oh shut up," he said. But for some reason, this time her teasing remark made him smile. He quickly replaced the smile with a scowl just in case she turned around.

"Well?" She asked. John sighed. He was really cold as well, though he was better at hiding it.

"Fine," He said, wrapping an arm around her. They both immediately felt the warmth of the other. John couldn't help but notice how much bare skin he was touching.

"Thanks," she muttered, silently hoping he hadn't heard her.

"No problem."

Before the pair had grown to hate each other, they had spent countless nights in the same position. No, they never dated technically, but it would be impossible to count the amount of nights they decided it was too late to go home and so, decided to stay over at the other's house.

Y/N's mind immediately went to the last time they had done it. Of course, at the time she hadn't known it she wouldn't be held by John for years to come. She wished she had cherished those nights more. And she hoped John felt the same.

It was so comfortable. It felt as though the pair had never fallen out. Y/N supposed if they hadn't, this might've been their wedding instead of Roger's.

"Y/N," John whispered. "Is everything alright?"

She quickly wiped the tear that had slipped from her eyes and onto the arm that had been placed beneath her head in a way that John found far too familiar.

She shook her head in response to his question.

John couldn't help but feel complete concern. Years of arguments seemed to slip his mind as her turned her around to face him. She was hiding her face behind her hands, sobs now accompanying the tears.

"Sorry," she choked out.

"No, don't be sorry," John told her as he wrapped her up in his arms. "It's ok, you're ok." He wasn't quite sure what to do. "Tell me, what's the matter?"

She pulled back from him slightly so she could look at him. His brows were furrowed and his eyes read nothing but concern.

The words that followed broke John's heart.

"Why do you hate me?"

He had no idea what to say.

"Because it wasn't me who started all this, John," she continued. "It was you. You started getting annoyed at every little thing and I didn't know what to do so I just shouted back."

"I... I don't know-"

"Yes you do," she said, not taking any lies. "You've got a reason, you just won't tell me." John looked down.

"Well, what's your reason?" He asked her. She rolled her teary eyes.

"My reason?" She asked. "John, I hate you because you hate me."

He completely broke.

He hid his face in his hands and he just sobbed. Y/N was shocked. She had never seen John cry. In all the years she had known him, he had never shed as much as a tear. So she stared at him with wide teary eyes.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm so fucking sorry." Now Y/N was the one who was lost for words.

"What are you sorry about?" She asked, unsure what else to say.

"I made you believe I hate you," he explained. "I don't. I could never."

He didn't hate her. Y/N could feel herself tearing up again.

"Then why did you-"

"I was scared," he told her. "Everyone was telling me I should ask you out but you were always going on dates with other guys and I- I couldn't take it. I was in love with you but you didn't love me back. At least, not in that way."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. John Deacon has been in love with her?

"And I could never tell you how I felt because i knew the feeling wasn't mutual," he continued. "So I started pushing you away like an idiot. Everything kept escalating and suddenly it I had gone too far. There was no getting our friendship back so I just kept going. I never wanted to shout at you and I was never really angry. I was just sad and pathetic and I'm so fucking sorry."

Y/N sat up, breaking free from John's arms. She stared ahead of her, looking out of the window to come face to face with the blizzard that had trapped her here.

John rose to a sitting position extremely hesitantly. It was as if he was worried any fast movements would send her running. But John didn't look out of the window. He didn't focus on the snowfall as Y/N did. Instead, he looked at her. The warm, faint light from the bathroom made her profile look golden. To John, it was like she was glowing. And he? He was in her shadow, dark and ashamed.

"Is it a joke?" She finally whispered.

John's mouth opened. Did she really think he was trying to play a trick or embarrass her? He had just poured his heart out in front of her. Despite that, he just said,

"No."

She still didn't look at him, but she seemed less tense as he said what he said.

"And," she said, "you said that you loved me."

"Yes."

"Loved. As in... past tense?"

Deciding to commit fully to his confession, John brought his hand up to her cheek. His fingertips were barely touching her, but they managed to pull her stare from the window and to him.

"No."

Y/N let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. It came out all shuddery and delicate. "And you promise you're not just trying to make me look like an idiot?" She asked.

"Y/N, look at me," he told her. He was centimetres from her face, he needed to get the message across.  But now that he was staring right at her, he could feel his face heating up. "I love you."

"I..." Y/N looked like the words were stuck in her throat. But even just the first syllable made John's heart soar. She felt the same, she was going to tell him! Years of arguments were about to all be swept under the rug.

"I need some sleep."

She took his wrist and gently pulled his hand away from her face.

"What?"

"I just need some time to process all this," she explained.

"What's to process? I just told you how I felt," John said back, clearly frustrated.

"John, we've not been friends for years," she said. "And you're expecting me to forget every argument just like that? What, did you think we were just gonna sweep everything under the rug?"

John knew her cheeks were red. He felt so fucking stupid, so silly. He shook his head.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry. I'll let you sleep on it and everything. I know you're tired."

She nodded and lay back down, facing away from John.

He wasn't taking that as a good sign. But there was nothing more to be said so he just lay down behind her, feeling lighter than he had a few minutes ago.

"Deaky?" He heard her whisper after a few moments of silence. His heart lurched.

"Yes?"

"I'm still cold."

John smiled. He smiled so warmly that it alone could've heated up the girl in the silky jammies.

He wrapped an arm around her and, in no time, they were both asleep.

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please reblog and give me some feedback! (Or just reblog))

[shadowslinkercowboy]

I'd like a ficlet based on 'An accidental adventure', please~ =D

Spider swears virulently under his breath as he ducks a buster shot, before twisting away from a vicious slash that would have bisected him, and risked a glance behind him for the public teleport hub he'd noted on his arrival.

Irregular Hunters are sure some ungrateful bastards, and X and Zero are the most ungrateful of all. At least the kid seems to have some sense, still hanging back where he'd been dropped when Spider had hauled his ass out of trouble. Again.

Of course, considering that whole Redips shitstorm, Spider logically can't blame the Hunters for their reactions.

But Spider isn't feeling very logical at the moment.

Hissing another curse, he spins away from another shot, the plasma passing close enough he can feel the heat scorch the outermost layer of paint on his armor. He dances back a few steps as Zero charges him, trying to get enough clear space so he can make a dash for the teleport hub, when he sees Axl's pistols raising.

Swearing viciously, the bounty hunter raises an arm, cards fanned in his hand, to defend himself from the newest attack.

Sees the kid's brief conspiratorial grin before he fires.

Spider only has enough time to yelp as the teleport hub at his back is struck and it explodes, before the world fades to white.

That ceiling is depressingly, alarmingly familiar. He sees it so often in his nightmares, he almost expects to wake up at any moment.

Spider stares up at it, almost feeling his vision starting to tunnel and darken, wavering like he's underwater. Are sounds really starting to echo in his ears, or is his head just ringing that loudly? He can almost swear he hears the ghost of heavy footsteps approaching, sees that hated face leaning over him with a sick grin...

He jerks up with a gasp, lurching to his feet as he tears free of the memories. Locking his joints against the overwhelming urge to run- run anywhere or nowhere as long as it was away from here- he takes a long, slow breath to calm himself.

He staggers a moment later, as a powerful wave of vertigo assaults him, curses streaming from his mouth in a vitriolic hiss.

Fuck, that wild teleport screwed with his synchronization! Well, isn't that just the fucking cherry on top of a shit sundae.

Regaining his balance- though he's sure he's swaying like a punch-drunk monkey- he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his hair and...wait. He frowns, looks around, then grunts and bends down to retrieve his hat- nearly stumbling onto his face in the process- and plants it firmly back on his head.

Now to get out of this empty room too full of nightmares.

Staggering forward, he passes through the door, ignoring the sensor-ghosts of hands grabbing frantically at him, of explosive heat and searing pain, and slowly makes his way down the tunnel outside.

Gimialla mine isn't a pleasant location on the best of days. It's even worse when one's synchro is off, leaving one staggering and exhausted, fighting vertigo with nearly every step.

Spider sags against a wall, frame heaving with his panting, too exhausted to muster up even a weak curse. He's going to get Axl back for this, even if the kid had been trying to help him. An explosive card or two, right in the face...

...okay, maybe just a swirly or something. The old man would have his head if he did anything more drastic to the kid.

Groaning quietly, the bounty hunter straightens the best he can to continue his trek through the tunnels, destination set firmly in mind. If he can just reach it before his systems shut down into stasis...!

It isn't much longer- or it could have been hours longer, even his internal chronometer is screwed up- before he sees the teleport hub.

Letting out a quiet cry of relief, he stumbles toward it, collapsing to his knees beside it. He grits his teeth as his vision swims, head feeling like a balloon filled with too much helium, before he's finally able to check the teleporter's coordinates. They're (still?) set to the Resistance's base, and he grunts, jabbing a finger at the control panel, until it finally cooperates.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he enters the coordinates he wants, then he hauls himself upright, staggers onto the hub, and closes his eyes as the teleportation takes hold.

Spider nearly collapses once he is substantial enough, almost missing the startled gasp from somewhere nearby. His vision is swimming alarmingly, and he lands on his face as he tries to stumble off the teleport hub. His head keeps trying to float away, making the room spin, and he has to fight against the very strong urge to purge his tanks.

Abruptly he realizes someone is beside him, speaking to him, and he turns his head to try to focus on whoever it is. He registers a blurry wash of cream-white and pink, and smiles vaguely as he recognizes Nana.

"Hey," he rasps, voice bleeding static. Too much static. He clears his throat and tries speaking again. "Need a favor. Call Sig?"

He doesn't hear her response, vision tunneling and darkening for real this time, and his systems send him into an emergency shutdown.

"-ider?...Spider? Hey."

Spider grunts as his shoulder is gently prodded, eyes reluctantly peeling themselves open to try to focus on the blur of black and white leaning over him. "Hn?" He blinks once, twice, and the blur resolves itself into Signas. "What took you so long, Sig?"

The Hunter High Commander smiles. "I could ask you the same, shadow slinker."

Spider chuckles wryly for the nickname as he stretches, pleased to note his synchro is nearly back to normal. He isn't on the floor anymore, either; Nana must have either moved him to a recharge berth, or gotten someone to help her. "This shadow slinker here's gonna have a few words about your two wonder-boys," he retorts as he relaxes again, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on his stomach.

"What on Earth did you think would happen, showing up like you did?" Signas chuckles, one corner of his mouth quirking up further in a subtle teasing smirk.

"A little less shootin' and slicin', for one thing. Especially after I rescued the kid."

"Um...excuse me?"

Both Spider and Signas turn their heads at the same time to see a bewildered Nana watching them.

Signas straightens as he turns to face her. "It's a long story. Suffice to say, this is the real Spider."

She blinks. "The real...? But they said he died when Ancientus..."

"I did," Spider replies, smile vanishing. "That's apparently when Redips decided to play body snatcher." His mouth twists in a frown, mildly displeased once again that he won't be able to get revenge on the fucker. He'll have to settle for the fact his brother got it for him, even if Axl did it unknowingly.

"Then how...?"

The Hunter High Commander glances at Spider, one eyebrow raising slightly in a silent question.

Spider shrugs. "The eternal meddler meddled. Apparently my old man didn't want me to go quietly into that dark night."

"Your...? Oh." Nana's eyes widens. "Oh! Then you ended up back in the mine...?"

"X and Zero apparently didn't take too kindly to my showin' up draggin' Axl by the scruff, and while they were tryin' to make sushi outta me, the kid decided the best way to save me was to shoot my teleporter and trigger a random teleport that threw me into that damn mine. Screwed up my synchro somthin' fierce in the process."

The system operator smiles faintly. "I can imagine. You gave me quite a fright when you stumbled in like you did. I thought I was seeing a ghost for a moment."

Signas casts a smirk at Spider. "No, merely a cat who's used up one of its nine lives."

"Oh, don't start, or I'll punch you in the fuckin' nose, y'damned bastard!" the bounty hunter snarls, waving a fist in the air and knowing how ineffective- and ridiculous- the threat will be in his current position.

Nana covers her mouth to stifle a giggle. "I guess you'll both be leaving then?" she asks, knowing that with Aile gone, there is nothing holding Spider to Gigantis.

Spider hums quietly, scratching his jaw as he gazes up at the ceiling. Signas is silent, watching him, waiting.

"...no," the bounty hunter finally decides. "I know at least a few of the Troubleshooters escaped the Rebellion's grasp, and if I can get them back together...well, Aile'd want me to help put things right here."

Signas smiles, inclining his head almost imperceptibly in an approving nod. "Perhaps they'll even promote you to Chief R's position."

"Oh hell no, not a chance in fuckin’ hell, I'd rather kiss Crystal Horn!"

Signas throws his head back and laughs at the irate bounty hunter, turning to leave. "I'll keep that in mind when they do," he tosses over his shoulder, grinning at Spider's frustrated "RAUGH!" behind him as the bounty hunter waves his fists over his head, looking like an angry toddler.