Devil's Tango (Quackbur)

Chapter 6

TW- mentions of suicide
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"Oh Prime, oh fuck," Quackity said, raking his hands through his hair in stress. "I just killed a man. What the fuck."
"Oh, you did, didn't you?" Wilbur said cheerfully.
"What the hell am I going to do?" he asked, surveying the lifeless body with panic.
Wilbur thought for a second as he watched Quackity freak out. He thought it was kind of cute, really.
"I dunno, but you better do something quickly, cuz someone's bound to come in," Wilbur said with a shrug.
Quackity's breathing increased and he tensed up, adrenaline shooting through him, his mind whirring and trying to find ways to not land himself in prison.
"I've got it!"
"Hm?" Wilbur asked.

"Fake a suicide!"
"Oh, good idea."
"I'll- I'll get a piece of paper and I'll write a forged suicide note, and then people will think Foolish killed himself, and- and I'll be fine," Quackity said. He said all this very fast and desperately, as if he was trying to convince himself it would work- which, in actual fact, he was.
"You do that, then," Wilbur said with a grin. "Want a pen?"
"Yeah- how did you do that?" Quackity asked, his casualness turning to astonishment as Wilbur summoned a pen in his hand with maddening ease.
"Perks of being a demon, I guess," Wilbur said with a grin, and handed Quackity the pen.
"Um... thanks?"
"You're welcome, Q."
"Okay, uhh, what should be his reason to have killed himself?" Quackity thought out loud, biting on the pen.

"Hmm. Maybe he was like you, and he didn't like being a priest, but he was pressured into it by family?" Wilbur said. "I mean, that's like your entire life story, to be honest, based on what you've told me."
"Good idea!"
Quackity started writing.
Ten minutes later, he held the paper up victoriously. "I'm done."
Wilbur looked up from picking with his nails, and reached his hand out. "Lemme see."
The paper read, in a crude scrawl that must have been Quackity's handwriting:

Hello. I am Foolish.
If you're reading this, I've killed myself by stabbing myself.
I hated being a priest but my overly religious family pressured me into it, and for me, the only way to leave this position without angering them was death, so that is what I've done. Donate my car to crippled kids, or to those ghetto moms on crack.
Thanks for reading.
Bury me, please.
Foolish.

"Impressive," Wilbur said, handing Quackity the paper back. "But you had to make a reference somewhere, didn't you?"
Quackity grinned and didn't answer.
"Okay, just place his hands on the dagger and make it look like a suicide," Wilbur said.
"Can't you do it?" Quackity asked.
"Nah. Can't touch people, but I can manipulate the objects around them, so..." Wilbur said, shrugging and smirking.
"What do you mean, you can't touch people? You've touched me before! Like, nudged me or whatever," Quackity said.

"You summoned me, so, yes, I can touch you, but the people who have not, aka all of humanity apart from you and Schlatt, and maybe a couple of other people, cannot," Wilbur said. "It's lonely on Earth, but I have everyone back in Hell with me, so I'll be fine."
"What, can you go to Hell whenever you want to?" Quackity asked.
"Oh, yeah, but I'd have to be re-summoned in order to have a physical form again on Earth. It's too hard to get someone to summon me, so I usually stay in Hell or, if like you, someone's summoned me, I stay until I've done with whatever I wanted," Wilbur explained.
"What did you come down to Earth for, anyway?" Quackity asked curiously. He'd never bothered to ask before.

"Hm. Hard to explain."
"Try."
"Uh... well, I saw an interesting, attractive man, and I thought Hey, why not find more about him?" Wilbur smiled. "So here I am."
"Oh, why haven't you gone to see him, then?" Quackity asked, completely oblivious to the fact that a slight blush was tinting Wilbur's cheeks.
Wilbur remained silent.
"Anyway, we better get out of here before someone comes in," Quackity said, breaking the awkward silence.