Enough so that both the hapless duo seem to be a bit afraid. "C-chocolate gag handguns.?" The young woman, who seems to be going through emotional turmoil at the moment. She's put them in straightjackets this time, who knows what she'll do to them the next time. The two boys look at each other, and resolve to not set her off like this again if at all possible. "You two are the only ones I know are real." I barely even know what's real anymore, you two are all I have!" She starts to go limp against Anton's body, unable to stop the flood of emotion. She then staggers over to her heartthrob, drops down to her knees, and embraces him tightly while crying on his shoulder. Mercifully for everyone involved, the second handgun breaks easily enough with enough percussive persuasion, which seems to set the musician a little more at ease. "Well, nice to know you think it's fun to engage in such sublime schadenfreude at my expense." The young woman is barely composed as she looks over the other gun, checking whether things like its safety, trigger, and magazine work properly, or if it's another gag creation. The club president shoots him an angry, tearful pout.
The two look at each other, honestly a bit unsure whether it's safe to say anything. "C-chocolate gag handguns.?" States the young woman, who seems to be going through emotional turmoil at the moment. She gives it a cautious lick, and then eats the bit. She takes the bit and looks it over, noticing how as real as the exterior of the weapon looks, the inside looks. only to notice that a small bit of the weapon seems to have broken off. "It doesn't matter! The simple fact that you're willing to do this at all is a sign that there's something seriously wrong with you!" She slams the weapon back down on the table. "Come on, they weren't even loaded!" Jet would gesture at the gun, but the whole straightjacket thing seems to be impeding him just a bit. "How bad is it for the two of you? Why are you trying to get yourselves killed every other day? Am I really that horrible that you two would rather find inventive ways to die than spend time with me!?" That have been shoved onto the barrel of handguns?!" She holds the weapon by its side and waves it in front of them both while openly crying. She gets up and starts pacing back and forth, before snatching one of the guns off the table and looking it over. ".Nearly hang yourself by jumping rope under a ceiling fan! And this is after I learn that the world itself is trying to take Jet away from me!" "First you two run away from me in a screaming panic, culminating in one of you breaking your neck and the other breaking his skull from the tumble down the stairs, forcing me to re-write the scenario just so you two wouldn't die, next you." She then points at Anton. "Well, if I had some measurable proof that the two of you weren't trying your hardest to kill yourselves in inane, suicidal stunts, I wouldn't feel the need!" Explains the musician, perhaps a little more loudly than she needed to. "Maybe explain why we're both in straightjackets?" Asks Anton, who in turn seems to be a bit annoyed himself. ".I don't even know where to start." Monika sits back in a chair and crosses both her arms and her legs, and seems to be having a hard time keeping herself from doing what she really wants to. The whole scene feels a bit awkward for the two plucky protags. Two guns dusted with doughnut crumbs and frosting sit to her side on a nearby table. Standing before them is the illustrious Literature Club President, staring down at them with a mix of fear and anger plain on her face, and tears welling up in her eyes. =-=Īnton and Jet find themselves in their apartment, unable to move their arms at all and suffering mild headaches each.
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