Extraordinarily Pleased

A Bridge Too Far

"Hm?" Stiltskin prompted chipperly, having gotten no answer to his question from the trio. "No seriously, tell me all about it!" He flapped his bony little hands enthusiastically to complement his curious tone, but his eyes matched none of it.

The ogres still stared at him stonily, trying to keep their breath under control. They didn't take their eyes off of the imp, but the hair on the backs of their necks bristled at the presence of the two witches guarding the door behind them.

"I could've sworn my ears were burning around Christmas time, so I might have a guess at the hot topics. Well, topic. Singular." Stiltskin chuckled, and his three lackeys grinned deviously.

The siblings' feet felt cemented to the floor, despite the wild adrenaline bursting through their veins. They were surrounded, trapped on the frayed, faded rug in the center of the room. Fergus and Felicia's bags laid seemingly a mile away by the front door, directly below the hovering duo. Farkle's bag, while still on his back, was so unorganized that by the time someone could dig out his knife, who knows what the three sorceresses surrounding them could conjure up in retaliation.

The battle axe Farkle had wanted to pluck from the pile of knight's bones - that Fergus made him abandon - would've been mighty useful right now.

"Okayokayokayokay NEW topic," Stiltskin wagged his finger. "I know I already asked, but I think I might get a different answer this time." He crossed his arms calmly and glanced among the three forcefully blank faces before him, taking his time on each one. He spoke with a smug, painful slowness, relishing every second. "What... would good kids... like you... want... with a place... like this?"

Whether prevented by tunnel vision, or defiantly refusing - perhaps a mix of both - the ogres remained silent, their eyes not leaving the wee ringleader as his pilot hovered closer to the window ledge.

"Ya know, you three are terrible at banter." Stiltskin huffed dramatically, slumping onto his chauffeur's shoulder. "You'd think Daddy would've taught you better. Then again, he DID sign you away, so why would he bother to–"

"Shut your mouth, Stiltskin!" Felicia's voice finally broke from her throat. Her brothers' heads twitched slightly, re-animated momentarily, but their expressions didn't change.

"Ooh!" Stiltskin's eyes narrowed with satisfaction as he straightened up. "Hit a nerve, did I?" He glanced between the three again, knowing their hard expressions barely suppressed their fear. He tapped his driver's shoulder, and she ducked to guide her broom through the arched window, coming to an easy stop under the bed's canopy, mere feet away from the trio.

The ogres' chests constricted as they felt the two guards float ever so slightly closer to their backs.

"I guess Mommy and Daddy never told you about that bridge, though," Stiltskin mused airily, polishing his fingernails against his vest. "Or maybe they did. Listening isn't exactly your strong suit, after all." His tone dripped with droll mockery.

"I TOLD you the bridge burnt up!" Farkle barked into Felicia's ear. She barely flinched, though, all of her energy consumed by the more pressing issue at hand. Not to mention, the last thing she needed right now was to be reminded that she'd dismissed his observation.

"What– do you want, Stiltskin?" Fergus managed out, as firmly as his clenched throat allowed. He too tried to ignore the realization that he, again, had failed to remember one incredibly crucial piece of information.

"Um? Excuse me!" Stiltskin extended his hand haltingly. "I'm not finished! Also, you didn't answer MY question, so to expect it of me is just SO rude–"