"Aaaarrrrgggghhhh~!!!" Screamed Hugo, followed shortly by a crash of rubble as his hoof smashed against a discarded statue. "Rraaaagh~! How could she do that!"
Whilst the short, fat gargoyle proceeded on his infuriated rampage, from down below him came the dampened whimpers of despair. Woeful sobs of tragic sadness that intermingled with the furious bellowing in an almost rhythmic fashion. "It's just not fair!" Victor wept, soaking the wood flooring beneath him in moisture.
"I mean! How could she do that to Quasi!?" Hugo roared. "That's just-just, just no! JUST NO!"
"H-he, he, he loves h-her, her!" Victor followed with as tears ran down his stone cheek. "C-can't she see that?!"
"Why I oughta, why I oughta~!...." Hugo sank to the floor, his face buried right into his hooves. He clenched his teeth. He could feel the anger inside him surging, as well as the tears that he was trying to hold back. "Shh... no.... Just, just no...." He muttered.
"There's nothin' we can do..." Came a quiet, sullen voice.
Hugo and Victor looked up and towards the owner of the voice. Victor wiped his eyes clear of tears as they stared over at their female gargoyle companion. She sat completely still, secluded beneath a low canopy beneath the flight of wooden stairs that led up to Quasimodo's studio. Her back was to them, but they could see that her head was hung low.
"There's nothin' we can do..." She said again. From the tone of her voice, Hugo and Victor could tell that something was desperately wrong. A sense of surrender hung heavy around the gargoyle, something that was frighteningly uncharacteristic of Laverne. "It's just how it is. And how it is that there's nothin' we can do..."
"What?" Hugo inquired. "What do you mean there's nothing we can do? What? You just want us to stand around while Quasimodo's in pain?!"
"Yes, Laverne," Victor interjected. "There has to be something we can do."
Laverne looked up at Hugo with a thick scowl on her face. "No! We can't do a damn thing here!"
"Why not!? Why not, Laverne?! Why can't we help Quasimodo with this?"
"We just can't!" Laverne retorted.
"But why?!"
"I just said! 'Cus we can't!!"
"Why not!" Hugo screamed.
"BECAUSE WE'RE NOT REAL!!!"
The room was deathly slightly. Nobody moved or spoke. Victor and Laverne simply stood there in disbelief, staring at their good friend, who was practically shaking, trying to hold back the emotions that swirled inside her. They could see beads of tears forming in her eyes as her mouth hung open with lips curled and teeth bared; her chest heaving and trembling violently.
Finally, she spoke. "... There's nothing we can do 'cus we're not real... we are all products of Quasimodo's imagination. We've helped him so much. We've helped him cope with everything his life has thrown at him since he was a kid... but this? There's nothin' we can do here... we can love him. We can cry with him. And we can comfort him. But we can't control the choices of others... and if this is Esmeralda's choice, then..."
