𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑷𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝒁𝒁𝑬𝑺

15 || ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ

　　　
　

　　If anyone was to tell you your first wedding invitation wouldn't even be an official invite, you'd believe it. Yet if it was in addition to a perverted robot handing it over, that was an entirely different ballpark.

At exactly nine in the morning, Brains had knocked all the wind from your body shoving a stodgy printout directly under your nose.

Ripping it from his clutches, shoving him off your body disturbed by his lack of shame. What you'd been passed was a post from Carlys Instagram, a photo of the bride-to-be inside a wedding parlour did little to invoke any kind of excitement.

Processing this at a sluggish pace, rubbing your eyes. Everything proceeding forwards at a sluggish pace, desperately wanting to just fall back asleep without anymore fuss.

"-- ain't got no invite to the weddin', no nothin'. S'pose we party crash, heheh, can't say no to us"

Catching the tail end of Brains rambling, a miffed expression planting itself upon your face "... Literally only caught half of that, but continue" folding up the paper.

Sniffing, puff of smoke exiting his wiretips, subtly annoyed; "S'not important. But. Wheelie wanna go, I go 'cause he goin'. Need a human like you to help out" leaping down to the cold hard ground, almost tripping over himself.

Sitting upright, able to properly face Brains who'd stopped to admire his reflection "wait - you're just going to invade a wedding? No plans? Just... Waltz on in?" speaking hesitantly on the matter, attempting to understand.

Scoffing, servo slicking through his gnarly wiretips, puffing himself up a little "no invites, no. Can't go anywhere if we were."

Beady little gaze returning to your now attentive form, unnervingly attentive "we have a plan, though? Had it since last month --"

"Last month?"

"'Cause that's when Carly went postin' about bride stuff. Hacked into her 'count, found hers and Sam's messages. Got date of weddin'. Started planning"

Pinching your nose, sighing heavily, desensitised by Brains illicit activities over the years. No sense in trying to be morally superior, past the point of not caring all too much.

"when is it happening?" settling for a lacklustre response, shoulders sagging, only so agreeable thanks to a noticeable lack of wakefulness.

One thing you did recall was a promise to be at the prophesied wedding.

"Today. One thirty start, three o'clock photograph session"

Swinging your legs off the bed, heaving yourself up, displaying an incredible lack of panic over such a short time frame "you know I've got nothing to wear, right? How are we even getting there?"

Pausing, rocking yourself forwards, stood there in your pajamas meandering over to a tiny closet "just- just tell me what you've got planned."

Brains was soon to launch in a tirade, likely to take awhile with his wandering mind. In that time you were able to find some semi-decent clothes, changing in the bathroom.

Possibly breaking a record of two as you tidied up, doing all you could to at least appear well put together. In spite of what stared back in the mirror, you preened yourself over a job well done.

Besides, who was going to see you anyway? Nobody!

Not if you could help it.

　　　　
🐝