I'm Sorry, Kid ~ Dadschlatt AU

{20}

"FUCK!!"

Glass bottle met quartz wall.

Papers met wood floor.

"Mr Schlatt, maybe it's a misunderstanding or something. Surely the kid can't hav-"

"He knows, Quackity. Tubbo knows for sure that Phil is dead, and who else would have a grudge against him other than me." He ran a dry hand through matted, thick hair, and sighed.

"How can you know for definite, though, that he knows?" A slightly confused Quackity leant against the doorframe of Schlatt's office, playing with the charm of a necklace around his neck.

Schlatt's dark eyes shot toward the vice president - piercing, firm. "Because, Alex, he asked me about Phil's whereabouts a few weeks back." He took a few steps closer toward the other. "And now he has asked again. It was specific, weirdly exact. He knows something. Meaning they likely all do."

"All?"

Schlatt grimaced, a look of hatred. It became clear to Quackity who exactly the man was talking about. "Oh. Well, so what if they know? It's hardly like thy can do much, Schlatt. You're the fucking president, what can they do? Nothing, really. It'll be fine."

Schlatt shrugged; it didn't matter if he was the president. If people want revenge, they'll get it. Nobody's really that safe, your position in the supposed social ladder is insignificant if people want blood.

Philza's boys want blood.

His own boy wants blood.

Alex Quackity made efforts to move the conversation along. "Anyway. Any progress with the kid? Can't help but notice him here a lot more Which must be good if he knows you're guilty of murder - or, ordering it atleast. Plus..." he hesitated. "Those own horns of his have really come through, ey? There's really no denying the resemblance between the two of you."

Schlatt sat at his desk, legs crossed upon the wood. Again the wood responded with a splintering noise whilst the leg broke further. Surely this won't hold up much longer. "Yeah, yeah, he's been here a lot. Probably just an attempt to pull information from me. He knows I'm capable of ordering murders, fucking hell I ordered his death. At this point, Alex, his horns- they don't matter. I'm not his dad, he's made that clear. I'm an asshole president, that's all I will ever be." Again he rose from his chair, neatly restacking the papers from the floor before taking off, the office door closing quietly behind him.

Quackity felt, well, betrayal. Confusion. How could Schlatt give in so easily? After all the work put in, after trying so hard to have his son back, that's it?

"Is that actually fucking it?" He spoke aloud to himself. "I help him gain presidency, help keep the fucking vermin that is Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit from this nation, and he just gives up?"

Running a hand through his hair and replacing his beanie, Alex, too, leaves the office - except this time, the door is slammed shut.