Bad Little Boy, Good Little Girl

Comparisons

~FIONA P.O.V~

I gasped & whirled, only to see a bemused looking vampire with an obvious attitude problem leaning casually against a tree. I glared at him. "What do you want, Marshall?" I asked, I tried to hiss the words, to be angry at him for sneaking up on me like that, but all that I could feel was exhaustion. Marshall raised an eyebrow. "Well, I was just getting back from... somewhere, & I smelt blood, so I followed it, thinking that maybe I could get a tasty little snack, & then your little fight happened."
"Oh God...." I muttered. "You saw that?"
"Yeah." He replied, chuckling.
"I have no idea what happened, I haven't yelled at Cake since we were kids, & I was so angry, I just, I don't know what the Glob happened!" I put my head in my hands, curling my knees to my chest.
"Um... Fiona?" Marshal said, sounding bemused by my emotional outburst.
"What?" I sniffed.
"I think that I might know what happened to make you act like that."
"What?" I asked, my head snapping up. 'If he did this on purpose, I swear to glob I'll push him directly out into the sunlight.' I thought angrily.
"I got a message late last night, about midnight," He began. "I knew who it was from immediately, it was being carried by a demon, no one would ever send a message like that. No one except for my mother. She wanted me to go down to the Nighto-Sphere, said that she needed to talk to me."
"And you just went?" I interrupted. "Remember what happened last time you decided to go to the Nighto-Sphere without telling anyone?" Marshal Lee rolled his eyes.
"Of course I do, that's why I told Bubbles." He explained, sounding annoyed at me for having interrupted. "Bubbles?" I asked, confused.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Prince Bubblegum? Of the lovely Candy Kingdom?" He answered my implied question.
Suddenly, I was fighting back giggles. Bubbles. Bubbles. He was never going to live this one down, it was rare when I actually got some good things to tease him about. He was always so perfect, so refined. It was insane. The way he walked, the way he talked. Even the way he dressed, in that overly dignified gaudy way of his. I thought of him now, his puffy pink sleeves, carefully styled hair, light pink skin, delicate figure. I found herself comparing him to Marshal Lee. They were complete opposites. While BubbleGum's clothes were carefully picked out, Marshal looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Blue skinny jeans with the cuffs rolled up, red & black plaid button-up shirt, old, red, torn up chucks, & his long, messy hair. And he's dirty. I noted with surprise. Though he was always rumpled, he was now covered in dirt, black as night. And it smelled like sulfur, sulfur & bananas. Like the dungeons. I thought with surprise. Why would Marshall be in the dungeons? Then it hit me. "Marshall?" I asked.
"Hmm?" He mumbled, looking as if I had just awoken him from some dream, & he shook his head, his black hair flopping boyishly into his eyes.
"Why did your father throw you in the dungeon?