ur the twst mc but ur dead

mr. mommy issues

a/n: damn it's been a while. anyways. hi. as always i tried to break away from the word-for-word script of the game because i think it gives the characters a little more dimensionality, especially when they're cutting through trains of thought (also i don't remember what tones they were originally using, i'm going off of vibes and script punctuation only so idk i probably got some of the energy in the scenes mixed up). sorry riddle lovers i'm not making it easy for ur man here. trey lovers...ur man is redeemed for the crime of Not Doing Something About It

Ace is tapping his foot, eyes flicking back and forth between Riddle and the grass every few seconds while he waits for the event to start. He's trying his best not to look nervous, and to anyone else they'd believe that he's just bored—his arms are crossed and his face is set into a hard, indifferent mask, but he doesn't fool you.

You let yourself hover next to Ace, watching the gooseflesh on the back of his neck rise as the air surrounding you cools down. Anyone else would've grown concerned at how an empty patch of air suddenly grows crisp, but Ace only relaxes; his shoulders loose some of their tension and the small wrinkle that's appeared between his eyebrows smooths itself out as the cool air sinks into his skin.

You can do this, you think, confident that Ace can pull through. For fucks sake, he'd yelled at a ghost about being dead—if he could do that, he surely wouldn't have any problem talking to his dorm leader, right?

Ace takes a deep breath before he starts moving, pushing towards where Riddle stands with his back to the first-year.

"Um...excuse me, Dorm Leader," he says, voice a little lower than what it usually is. You hover next to Ace, watching as Riddle turns expectantly, gaze falling flat as it lands on the other redhead.

"Ah. The first-year who stole my tart," he remarks, already looking displeased.

Damn, we're already off to a bad start, you think, watching Ace try to keep himself composed.

"Uh, yeah. About that. I wanted to apologize for doing that, so I baked you a new one," says Ace, keeping it together surprisingly well under Riddle's stony glare.

Riddle's eyes widen slightly, loosing some of their sharpness but gaining a bit of suspicion. "Well, now I'm curious. What kind have you made?"

Ace grins, all of the tension melting right off of him at the apparent way that Riddle's hostility seemingly vanished. "A great question! It's a Mont Blanc! Deuce and Trey helped me gather the chestnuts for it, but don't worry! We only grabbed the freshest we could—"

"Unbelievable!"

If ghosts could go into cardiac arrest, you surely would've. Riddle's sudden outburst has both you and Ace frozen in place, staring at Riddle in disbelief. It takes Ace a few seconds to get his voice working again, but when it does it's gone back to that sharp, blunt tone that you're used to.

"What's wrong with a Mont Blanc?" he exclaims.

You float there, staring blankly ahead as Riddle lists of a rule ridiculous enough to make you question his competency as Dorm Leader. You're barely listening as Riddle, Ace, and Deuce argue over that damn rule, hoping that Riddle would just let it go instead of blowing it out of proportion.