Aaron: (looks up from the movie playing, and glares at one of the doors in the Warehouse) What is she doing in there? I *know* she's not writing.
Richie: (smirks at the teen, and grabs some popcorn from the bowl sitting on the couch) Probably playing the playstation or something. Why do you care?
Aaron: (turns to glare at the other muse) I care 'cause she wrote one fic with me in it, and hasn't written since. It's been a year. (turns his glare to the tv screen)
Richie: (snickers, and throws a couple pieces of popcorn at Aaron) A year? You're bitching about a year? Kid, she hasn't written me into a fic in almost 7 years.
Aaron: (turns back to Richie, jaw dropped in shock) 7. Years.
Richie: (snickers some more, and turns back to Highlander: Endgame) Yep. The last two fics I was in were back to back. The first one had me getting kidnapped by the Smurfs and rescued by Duncan, the second one was the sequel. (looks thoughtful for a bit) You know, our wonderful writer has twenty to thirty fics wandering around on computer discs and in notebooks, 90% of which will probably never see the light of day. Of the other 10%, maybe three will get finished in the next 5 years.
Aaron: (still looking shocked) No wonder the others hightailed it to Bermuda. And why do you stick around?
Richie: Actually, Methos is in Tibet at some monastery. I stay because she keeps the fridge stocked and lets me order whatever I want online.
Kym: (walks into the room) Mailcall! Let's see. Richie, Richie, Aaron, Richie, Richie and Aaron, Richie...why are you getting packages from... Tibet?
Richie: (grabs at the large airmail box) Methos was suppossed to send me something cool from Nepal or someplace like that.
Kym: Whatever. (dumps the rest of the mail on the couch, except for a postcard) Got mail from everyone else too. "Hey Aaron and Richie, how's Hell? We're doing great, weather is fine, tell the wench we said... nothing. Seifer." (looks really pissed) That ungrateful little bastard. I'm going to...
Richie: (smirks and interrupts his Writer) ...to do nothing. Just like always.
Kym: (gives Richie the Look Of Death) Bite me Pinataboy. (Turns and stomps from the room)
Aaron: (curiously) Pinataboy?
Richie: (looks pained, and turns back to the movie) Don't. Ask.
Richie: (smirks at the teen, and grabs some popcorn from the bowl sitting on the couch) Probably playing the playstation or something. Why do you care?
Aaron: (turns to glare at the other muse) I care 'cause she wrote one fic with me in it, and hasn't written since. It's been a year. (turns his glare to the tv screen)
Richie: (snickers, and throws a couple pieces of popcorn at Aaron) A year? You're bitching about a year? Kid, she hasn't written me into a fic in almost 7 years.
Aaron: (turns back to Richie, jaw dropped in shock) 7. Years.
Richie: (snickers some more, and turns back to Highlander: Endgame) Yep. The last two fics I was in were back to back. The first one had me getting kidnapped by the Smurfs and rescued by Duncan, the second one was the sequel. (looks thoughtful for a bit) You know, our wonderful writer has twenty to thirty fics wandering around on computer discs and in notebooks, 90% of which will probably never see the light of day. Of the other 10%, maybe three will get finished in the next 5 years.
Aaron: (still looking shocked) No wonder the others hightailed it to Bermuda. And why do you stick around?
Richie: Actually, Methos is in Tibet at some monastery. I stay because she keeps the fridge stocked and lets me order whatever I want online.
Kym: (walks into the room) Mailcall! Let's see. Richie, Richie, Aaron, Richie, Richie and Aaron, Richie...why are you getting packages from... Tibet?
Richie: (grabs at the large airmail box) Methos was suppossed to send me something cool from Nepal or someplace like that.
Kym: Whatever. (dumps the rest of the mail on the couch, except for a postcard) Got mail from everyone else too. "Hey Aaron and Richie, how's Hell? We're doing great, weather is fine, tell the wench we said... nothing. Seifer." (looks really pissed) That ungrateful little bastard. I'm going to...
Richie: (smirks and interrupts his Writer) ...to do nothing. Just like always.
Kym: (gives Richie the Look Of Death) Bite me Pinataboy. (Turns and stomps from the room)
Aaron: (curiously) Pinataboy?
Richie: (looks pained, and turns back to the movie) Don't. Ask.
