By The Lantern-Light (A CherriSnake AU)

VIII - On The Subject Of Experts

⬪◁──❈『』❈──▷⬪

Pentious' house was comfortable, for sure, but it was cramped.

The trip down the stairs was just that - I stumbled down and almost broke another bone in the process. I made it, though.

I had set myself up in their dining room. Two tall shelves were placed on either side of the front door, stuffed with books and odd knick-knacks.

The top shelf held deliberately placed books, perhaps where children could not access them. I could tell they were read often, as they had not accumulated the thin layer of dust that the others had. Limping, I went to investigate.

Oh Edgelord, I thought as I snorted from laughter. I had no idea he was into THESE kinds of romances! I had read about three quarters of the titles before, and all of those were written by talented degenerates. He even had one of my favorites, one that I had managed to swipe from an unsuspecting shop keep and store in my own house. It contained the most shameless shit I had ever seen, and I had seen some shit.

I couldn't decide if I should respect his good taste in literature, or torture him with my newfound knowledge.

I ultimately grabbed the book and plopped back down at the table, then flipped to the first page. The familiarity of the words gave me an unwarranted, yet welcomed sense of nostalgia. I knew exactly how it ended; the lovers had a happily ever after, never worried about society's rules and regulations. They never had to suffer or separate because one needed to marry within their own culture, and the other didn't have to flee in order to push that pain away.

Sometimes I wondered if he got what he wanted.

I was just getting to the first steamy part when the front door swung open, and a weary looking Pentious stepped inside. He registered my presence, then made his way to the kitchen where he produced a bottle of cheap beer.

"Yo, I didn't know you drink," I said with an eyebrow raised.

"Everyone drinks, Miss Bomb. It's fucking France."

Edgelord was beginning to sound like his old pissy self again. Good, I was almost too weirded out by the savior schtick he was putting on. "What happened?" I asked, only half-interested.

He groaned as he contemplated pouring a glass or simply chugging from the bottle, and decided the latter option. "I think I just sold my soul to the Devil himself." Wiping off his mouth, he locked eyes with me. "Wait, what are you doing down here? Aren't you supposed to be resting your leg?"

"I got bored."

Pentious furrowed his brow. "Don't tell me you walked down the stairs with your leg like this."

"And if I did?"

"Do you have some kind of death wish?"

"Even if I did have a death wish, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of being the one to kill me. Or your dumb stairs."

He groaned again. "It would not satisfy me to end your life. It's too messy, physically and legally."

"You sayin' you don't hate me? Mixed signals there, buddy."

"Did the twins bother you while you were upstairs?" He deflected my question.

"One of them gave me back my powder flask, so I'd say they didn't bother me at all. I was looking for it last night before I got jumped."

"If it was Edgar who returned it, I am very sorry if he stole some. He has a tendency to take things that are not his. Not maliciously; he's just curious."