Complete. Utter. Chaos.
"Greed, it's just a stupid pillow." Marta muttered.
"Yeah, Greed." Doroche whined, tugging harder at the cushion in Greed's hands.
Doroche, apparently, at least had a wink of common sense.
"Mine."
Greed, on the other hand…
"It's a PILLOW!"
"Say whatever you want. It's in my bar. Therefore, it's mine."
"Is not! I just BOUGHT it! I only put it down for a second, and—"
"Mine."
"No!"
"Mine."
"It's mine, I just—"
"Mine."
"I—"
"Mine."
"No, MINE!"
"Mine!"
"MINE!"
"Mine!"
Marta snapped.
"WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT –" Marta yanked the said pillow from a stunned Greed's hands and tore it in two, spraying feathers everywhere. "UP!"
Silence. Only the feathers wafting down and settling on everyone's heads made any movement.
Of course, Roa, with his great timing, burst in through the door at thatperfect moment.
"Hey, I got –" He stopped dead at the sight of three oversized birds standing in the middle of the room.
"Ah, I mean…" The birds glared at him. (actually, one of them was grinning like a maniac)
Roa slowly backedaway from the room, thoroughly intimidated by the trio.
Click.
"Wow, nice feathers, snake girl." Drawled a certain future victim of Marta's.
Kimbley held in his hand the dreaded tool that had ruined so many lives.
A camera.
The silence broke.
Marta had bloodlust in her eyes. "Kimbley, be a good boy and give me that camera."
Kimbley did something smart for a change. He ran for his life.
"Kimbley, get back he—" a hand covered her mouth, blocking the escape of several semi-unfriendly words.
Greed snapped his fingers at Doroche, who was still frozen in place and looking for allthe worldlike a molting duck.
"Doro-chan, my sweet, I want you to clean up this mess." He said without looking at the dog-chimera.
Doroche finally seemed to wake up.
"What? But you…"
"Hey," Greed called back to him while dragging a struggling Marta away, "I thought it was your pillow?"
"GREED!"
Greed laughed his way down the hall.
"Mmmph!"
"Sorry Marta, if you're going to yell…" Greed grinned at a red-faced Marta.
Marta visibly deflated and Greed withdrew his hand.
"I said, what are you going to do about Kimbley?"
Greed whistled tunelessly. "Let him keep the photo, I guess. It'll make a good addition if we ever make a scrapbook."
"He'll use it to blackmail us."
"Not if we don't care."
Marta sighed and changed the subject.
"Why were you so touchy about the pillow?"
"It was mine." Greed lowered his voice and whispered in her ear, "All of you guys are mine. My property."
Marta opened her mouth to say something, but Greed shushed her with a finger on her lips. The finger slowly traced the curve of her mouth and followed the line of her jaw.
"Mine."
The finger followed her nose and fell back to her jaw.
"Mine."
His lips found hers. Marta murmured into his mouth,
"Okay. Yours."
Greed grinned again.
Click.
"KIMBLEY, YOU ARE DEAD!"
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End
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