~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬~

~𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧~

~

"Killer, do you have an eight?"

"Go fish."

The hooded skeleton huffed in frustration, adding to his massive deck of cards. You'd think after seven rounds of having nothing to make into a pair, he'd have something to play with by now.

"Dust, do you have an eight?"

His jaw dropped down to the floor. His amazement at his partner's not so brilliant skill was laughable.

Horror grumbling mumbled some incoherent curse to himself, reorganizing his perfect hand of pairs and matches in his hand. Dust and Killer were constantly at each other's throats, desperate not to win, but to beat each other. Though, it seemed Killer had the upper hand, being able to lie about which cards he had in his hand without Dust picking up on his cheating ways.

Dust forked over his eight, earning a snarky grin from his co-worker as he stacked the two eight of diamonds together onto the floor.

The two turned to Horror, who they had included in an attempt to befriend him and welcome him into their group of insolent henchmen. Not that Horror wasn't already technically Error's henchman, but when he was working with Error, he held a higher status than he did now.

Then, that Nightmare guy came along. The tarpit of an octopus had barged his way into their home, literally breaking and entering, and the only reason Error hadn't given him the boot was because he made promises of the king ending up with some girl he liked.

Not that he didn't enjoy seeing his childhood friend happy, but he missed back when Error listened to him. When he felt like he could keep him from falling into all of the traps that tempted him.

Anyone could trick Error with promises of security. But only a true friend like him would dare to tell him what was and wasn't attainable for him.

Horror reached plucked the two fours he had been saving his hand, laying the pair on the ground.

"Dang, Horror! You're really good at this," Dust exclaimed.

The giant skeleton just grunted and gave him a nod. Dust hadn't given Horror a moment of silence in the past two days they had been working together. Maybe it was because he was trying too hard to make him feel included, though it may have been the skeleton with the mismatched eyes was naturally loud and obnoxious.

Judging by the looks he often earned from his much stabler partner, it was the second one.

Killer, compared to his friend, was much easier to talk to. He had much more self-control. Sitting next to Dust, he was so much more still than him that the hooded skeleton made him seem dead.

He wasn't all that likable either, however. Killer was a suck-up, never once questioning Nightmare's orders when they were given. This lead to him being the bossier of the two, and more engaged fights between him and Dust.

Horror reached for a potato chisp, the typically noisy crunch of the chip drowned out by more bickering between his two partners.

"Horror!"

He turned his head, his best friend's mini-me looking over his shoulder at his deck of cards, trademark bunny tucked under his arm.

"Oh, hey PJ. Ya need sumn'?" He said, patting the ground next to him.

The young boy dropped to the floor, crisscrossing his legs.

"I wanted to see you. Uncle Fresh still isn't awake yet, and I don't want to hang out with that 'Cross' guy again," the six-year-old explained.