[img]http://i.imgur.com/2Akd2M4.png[/img]

“Well, here we are,” Archie said, “Home sweet home.” From the outside, it looked to be a simple, ordinary wooden structure. It was completely square, with a thatched, triangular roof extending from the top. A small section of the roof overhung a porch that was held up by pillars on either side, with a few wooden steps leading up to the entrance.  It was made oddly homely by an out-of-place flowerbed of red roses to the left of the door, and a wooden rocking chair to the right of it. Though Archie’s house was fairly small and simple, at least the ceilings would be tall enough to accommodate the cybernetic giantess who accompanied him. He pulled a keyring out of his front pocket and unlocked the entrance, stepping aside to hold the door open for her. “Mi casa es su casa.”

The inside was slightly more interesting. A table with four chairs sat in the middle of the room, with what looked like a small kitchen area on the left side. Given that there wasn’t anything in the way of electricity, though, it was more like a small counter with some forks and knives on it. There was a bookshelf on the right that seemed oddly absent of books, with the top two shelves instead featuring various knick-knacks such as hats and rings, but also knives and revolvers. On top of the bookshelf, there was even a fancy-looking hunting rifle in a glass case. A brutal-looking spiked whip also hung there, nailed to the back of the bookcase. Archie walked over to it and placed a necklace that Long John McClive had worn on one of the shelves, a silver-tipped bullet on a thin metal chain.

Striding in, Roberta looked around the house in curiosity. “Interesting…” she mused to herself, then louder, “Little trophy collection, I take it?” She continued walking, eventually going to stand in the corner awkwardly, “So, what’s the plan?”

“Yep,” Archie said perhaps a little too proudly, “A little something from each of the sick fucks I’ve killed.”

The swordsman pulled a large sheet of paper out from behind his shelf and laid it flat on the table. “... I mean, I thought when we were in the bar, you were suggesting that we steal a water truck,” Archie admitted. With a black sharpie, he drew a picture of the water truck in question. “Did I misunderstand you?”

Stifling an amused snort, Roberta shook her head, “No, no, I’m well aware of the potential double meaning. I was curious to see if you’d notice. While normally I might not be opposed, I suggest we keep the matter of a giant angry Hollow the priority.” She looked down at the drawing, “And yes, though I prefer to think of it as ‘borrowing for the public good’ don’t you?”

Archie nodded. “[i]I[/i] think it’s for the greater good, but other people might not. Water’s a precious resource out here, and we’re gonna need a damned good reason to just go and take it.” Before continuing, Archie glanced up and looked Roberta dead in the eye. “And before we discuss anything else, I need to know you’re committed to this. I don’t invite just any stranger at the bar over to plot. I’ve been involved in a lot of partnerships that didn’t work out. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t want to have to go through that shit again.”

“Water’s a precious resource, true, but how useful is it if it can’t get to people? I’m not suggesting we steal a loaded water truck, but an empty one and fill that up with seawater.” She continued, “And yeah I’m committed, I’m bored and I need money, and you seem like you’re not going to try and put a bullet in my back the moment I look away, so yes.” Then she smirked, “Just so long as you’re okay with random innuendos about pretty much everything.”

“Good. Trust is very important in a relationship like this.” Archie smirked back. He was either completely unaware of the innuendo, or intentionally playing it up. “Yeah, I was thinking more-or-less the same thing... in truth, getting the water truck isn’t going to be [i]that[/i] hard if they know what we’re going to be using it for, but one issue remains...” Archie quickly scribbled out a picture of a massive worm on his paper. “Actually killing the thing. Now, there’s lots of ways to go about doing this: we could either spray the thing with a hose, or try to get him to take a bite out of the truck--”

Roberta interrupted him, “I can control liquid I change the pH of as well.” She pulled a small jar out of her backpack, “Just a little thing of seawater.” Touching a finger to the contents, she then fished out another scrap of paper and dropped it in, letting it dissolve almost immediately. Right after, she flexed her hand and the liquid left the jar, orbiting her hand until she flung it at a bare patch of floor, catching it just before it impacted. “We don’t need to waste a water truck.”

Archie nearly had a heart attack as the acid almost landed on his hardwood floor. “I just had that--... phew... That’s a detail I wish you’d told me earlier; it basically makes every part of the plan completely pointless. Just lure the Sandsnake out, give ‘em a little lye-bath, and collect a small fortune.” As he spoke, he idly doodled on his paper, creating two stick-figures standing on a large pile of money; one was mustachioed and holding a sword, the other particularly tall with two unusually thick limbs. “I’m sure I can convince the right people that loaning us a truck would be for a good cause...” He started writing down a list of names of people who might have access to such a vehicle.

Roberta flinched slightly when Archie mentioned lye, but recovered quickly. “Yes. Get the truck, I can’t transport that much over a long distance, but I can definitely use it once we’ve moved it. Then I’ll  dissolve his insides and we can go swimming in coin.” She looked down at the drawing in some amusement, “Truly your artistic skill knows no bounds.”

Archie chuckled. “It might not look like it, but I used to be quite the artist. Drawing was something I liked to do a lot when I was younger. Of course, I didn’t have a whole lot of time for it.” He removed his bulletproof vest and placed it on a coat-rack near his bookshelf. “Jeez, I’m fucking exhausted...”

Roberta nodded, “It is rather late, isn’t it?” She looked around, there wasn’t really much in the way of furniture. She considered taking off her own coat to cool off -cybernetics ran rather warmly, and she wasn’t built for hot climates as it was, and the house and surrounding landscape still clung to the midday heat- but wasn’t sure considering the subtext that’d preceded their arrival at his house. “Er… is there somewhere to sleep? I’m pretty sure they won’t let me back into my room at the inn unless I pay and I’m poor enough that I can’t afford it.”

“Well, a queen-sized bed, but gimme one second and I’ll see if I have anything else.” He opened the door to his bedroom and ducked inside, closing it behind him. Only the moonlight coming from the window gave the room any sort of illumination, but one could make out most of the furniture alright. It was certainly the most luxurious-looking part of his house, complete with a nice carpet and more windows than the main area. In the dead centre of the opposite wall there was a large, queen-size bed, and wooden dresser with an open window above it. On top of the dresser was a fake glass vase full of wilted, red roses, which Archie silently noted would need replacing. A wine cooler stand sat at the foot of the bed with nothing in it, though Archie kept wondering why he had it, since keeping liquid of any kind cold was impractical without a proper refrigerator and freezer system. Candles were scattered everywhere, given they were his only option for light until the local authorities extended the power grid to the edges of the town, though the moon made it possible for him to pick out most of his furniture and avoid stepping on anything as he walked over to his dresser. He felt around the top for a box of matches, and then lit a few of the candles to give him some illumination. There was a full-body mirror hanging on the back of the door, and several hooks for coats on the back wall.
 
First and foremost, though, his sweaty clothes needed to be changed, considering he hadn’t done so for three days. He took off his shirt, revealing several long, thin scars on his back, and tossed the sweaty garment into a small wardrobe leaning up against the left wall. [i]Why did it have to be so goddamned hot tonight?[/i] He pulled a new undershirt out of the dresser, but as he did so, a strong gust of wind blew through the window, knocking the vase over and scattering dried rose petals all over the bed. “Fuck!” he swore, “Not again with this shit... I really need to move that thing...” At last, he spotted an armchair in the corner, complete with reclining capabilities and extra cushions. “That should do nicely... though it might be a little small for her.” Archie pressed his face against the door and called to Roberta: “Just a minute, please!” Then he began to frantically clean up the petals and shoved the wine cooler away, accidentally knocking it over in the process. “Damn it!” he swore again, picking it up off the ground and setting it aside. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he then stubbed his toe hard on the bed frame, prompting him to let out a loud “SHIT!” He lay down on his bed to examine his injury.

Roberta for her part, had removed her jacket and tied it around her waist, letting the accumulated sweat from the day evaporate off of her. Leaning against the wall, she examined the room, it was not unexpectedly plain, just the table, bookcase, and not a whole lot else. “Kind of dull, really.” she remarked to herself, surveying the room and not finding much to interest her.

Huffing in boredom, she pulled out a book and began flipping through it idly, stopping at the various dog ears and then flipping on. She’d read the damn thing probably eighteen times now, there wasn’t much to be gained reading it another. Still, it was something to pass the time, and judging by how long Archie was taking doing… whatever, passing the ti-

She started as she heard him call through the door, quirking an eyebrow and pushing herself off the wall. As she started for the door, she heard a crash, then muttered swearing, another sound that sounded like something soft hitting something hard, and less than muttered cursing. Hurrying over to the door, she paused uncertainly, eventually knocking softly on the door, “Is everything alright?”

“Uh... yeah, just uhm...” Archie muttered a few more curses, finished changing into his sleepwear (which was really just a sleeveless undershirt and some grey flannel pajama bottoms) and opened the door. It was starting to become abundantly clear how long it’d been since Archie had last slept. “Sorry, stubbed my toe. Would an armchair be okay? I don’t exactly have room back here for a guest bed.” 

She peered into the room, it looked like a small hurricane had gone around and messed everything up. The armchair itself looked fine, if maybe a bit small, as usual her height making [i]everything[/i] inconvenient. “Yeah, that’ll be fi- are those roses and candles?” She raised her eyebrow, looking back at Archie and just barely managing to stifle a howl of laughter, which instead came out as choked snorts. “Oh that’s, oh my god.” She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor shaking with suppressed laughter.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Archie pleaded. 

Roberta’s attempt to contain her amusement failed, and she burst out howling. She managed to choke out a few words, “Th-that’s what they always say!” Before succumbing to the giggles once more, slumped against the wall with her palm to her face. “The most cliche excuse and that’s what you go with, my god I might just die right here and now.”

As Roberta sat on the floor and laughed, Archie said nothing. Instead, he returned to his room (without bothering to close the door this time) and began to, somewhat shamefully, pick the rose petals off of his bed spread and deposit them in a small wastepaper basket. He picked up the vase off of the ground, then went to lean inside of the door frame until Roberta stopped laughing. “It’s not that funny, Roberta...” he grumbled, “The wind knocked over some flowers... see?” he said, holding up the empty vase, “And I have no electricity out here.”

“Riiiiight.” She snorted, finally composing herself and standing back up. “I’ll take your word for it.” Looking back into the room, she turned to Archie, “Should I just move that out here for the night, then?”

“If it fits through the door,” Archie said, shrugging, “Also, if I [i]had[/i] been doing what I think you thought I was doing, the laughter would’ve really hurt my self-esteem.” As he took a step forward, he noticed something underfoot: a small, black remote. As if to heighten the sheer stupidity of the situation, soft music began to play from a radio located in Archie’s room. “... Okay, last time I’ll humiliate myself tonight, I swear,” he said, joining in on the laughter a bit too late. After composing himself and turning the music off, he lifted the chair up off the ground and began to coax it through the doorway. “Are you sure you’re gonna be comfortable in this? It might be a little... [i]small[/i] for you.”

“Better than the floor.” She shrugged. “Do you need any help with that?”

“Just help guide it a bit...” Archie said, his arm muscles tensing up a bit, “It’s almost through.” He wondered if he had been slacking on his strength training as of late, or if he was just tired, but did his best to pretend the chair wasn’t heavy for him.

Roberta grabbed a hold of the chair as well, taking care to grab relatively lightly with her cybernetic one, and gave it a firm tug. The chair didn’t budge, though it creaked somewhat, “I don’t think it’s going to fit through that door. How did you even get it in here in the first place?”

“I built it inside...” Archie grumbled, placing it back in the corner, “I can’t think straight right now,” he said, rubbing his temples. As he fell back into the chair, an audible crack could be heard as the seat gave way and the entire thing practically fell apart. “¡MIERDA!” he screamed in Spanish. “Cheap piece of shit...”

“Well then.” Roberta muttered to herself, “So… what’s the plan now?” She walked into the room, examining the pieces. They’d actually broken, not fallen apart, so she couldn’t just reassemble it somewhere. “You actually broke the thing, can’t be fixed.” She grumbled under her breath, this situation just kept getting worse and worse. And more embarrassing and awkward by the second. 

“... I’ll just sleep on the floor or something,” Archie mumbled, making himself comfortable on the cushioned remains of the recliner, “First thing I’m doing tomorrow morning is buying a fucking air-mattress...”

Roberta nodded, “I don’t really want to kick you out of your bed… and I doubt it’d even fit me anyway, let me see the cushion- I’ll make something work.” She looked off to the wall, muttering darkly under her breath, “Maybe kill something and make a hammock out of the hide.”

Archie rolled his eyes. “Do you wanna just share the bed?” he asked, standing up. There was no proper way to ask this question, so he tried to be as nonchalant about it as possible.

She gave him a suspicious look, and walked over to the bed, drawing a line down it, gesturing to the larger half and cautiously sitting on the smaller one. “Nothing crosses the line, deal?”

“Deal,” Archie confirmed. He began to walk around the room, blowing out what few candles remained. “Goodnight, Roberta.” The less he said at this point, the better. Hopefully he wouldn’t have any nightmares or need to get up to take a piss.