Red Looks Better On Liars- Schlatt X Quackity

37 ~ That Sounds Suspiciously Culty!

Tw//

It was only after exploring the house and finding my place on the couch, that I realized that Tubbo was nowhere to be seen. I assumed it was just quiet, or that he was still recovering. Not that he was gone completely.

I pull the blanket over my legs, tucking neatly underneath myself. My eyes linger on Schlatt's, wanting to ask, but also not wanting to know the answer. Had he died as well? Had he been far too burnt to be savable? I swallow a knot in my throat and open my mouth.

"Did Tubbo make it?" I tried to ask in the most polite way I could. If he had, I didn't want to seem harsh.

Schlatt glances up from his spot on the opposite couch, sipping a cup of assumedly coffee and reading a book. I had my own cup, though it lay untouched. "Yes, he's fine."

I quirk an eyebrow and glance around the room. "Where is he?"

He studies me for a second, taking a long sip of his coffee as he does so. "He's with Bad."

I nod, examining my surroundings with dread. Who knew getting murdered by your soon-to-be-husband would be so awkward?

My head drifts to the side and I just study him. He doesn't seem that different from when I last saw him. But for some reason, it feels like he acts differently. I doubt he does, though. He seems kinder, but still just as distant.

Schlatt lazily brings his hand over the cat's silk fur, petting him while reading his book. He didn't look bad. He didn't seem bad. But I knew.

"Why is he with Bad?" I ask, almost childishly.

He glances up once more, folding the book in his lap to give me his full attention. "Because you were dead. I don't want my son finding a dead body."

"I didn't think you cared about 'your' son." I bite, narrowing my eyes.

He shakes his head, looking down at his cat. "I do."

"Then why did you try killing him?" I ask.

He looks at me, looks at the cat, and doesn't respond. I click my tongue, rolling my eyes.

"When will I be able to see him?" I ask him.

"Whenever you don't look dead." He gestures toward me with his coffee, taking a drink.

"Honey, I always look dead," I grumble sardonically.

"I'd believe it." Schlatt himself rolls his eyes. "Have you looked in the mirror recently?"

"No. . ." I begin, quirking an eyebrow. "Something especially eye-catching?"

"Pumpkin, there's always something eye-catching about you," He clicks his tongue, eyeing me. "No, but you might want to get some hair dye."

I narrow my eyes, slowly bringing my hand to my hair. "What?"

A grin comes across his face. "Just come look," He reaches for his phone from his pocket.

I grimace, hastily standing from my seat. I approach him and lay my hand out in front of him, wanting his phone. He takes a picture of me, turning it to let me see.

I gasp a breath, hand gripping my hair.

"Did you bleach my fucking hair?" I growl, eyes wide.

"No, bleach doesn't make your hair white." He corrects, putting away his phone. "Being dead does, though."

I stare at him longer. He takes my silence as a reply and continues.