🍷♠️TNT duo oneshits♠️🍷

♤Again, I lie here♤

Again, Quackity failed at following his own rules. It seems the more He makes, the more he breaks. It's funny, actually. Trying so hard to protect yourself that you become the very thing that has kept you awake with cold and sweaty night terrors. It was with these night terrors he would find himself pacing about his room, but that's not where he found himself tonight.

Tonight he was sat atop his needle point again, staring blankly down upon Wilbur's burger van, a foolish venture he thought as he scrutinized the petty display just outside of his nation, and the man who ran it, who was just out of his reach.

He swirled a glass of wine idly, fidgeting, waiting. Would the man wander over here once again as he would typically at random? Quackity awated the sight of Wilbur's tall figure, waiting to see as he sauntered over the sandy hill that marked the border of Las Nevadas, but that sight never came. Quackity sighed, almost relieved, but he wasn't that stupid.

Wilbur had to be planning something. Why else would he miss an opportunity to piss him off? Quackity ground his teeth, irritation poking at his temples as he reached his hand up to taste the first sip of his wine. This was something he could savor, something he could hold onto for longer than anything else. He groaned tiredly into his hand as he ran it along his face after setting his glass on the wooden desk before him.

How long could he keep going like this. it had really gotten to the point where he's practically anticipating Wilbur's arrival. He would have no more of it. He stayed just long enough to finish off his wine before standing up sharply and making his way to the elevator, which was stood and planted firmly at the far end of this complex. This was the same elevator Wilbur had exited through when Quackity had kicked him out, pushed him away. He was good at that, pushing people away, and when he wasn't doing that, the people did it for him.

He didn't have to worry about all of that anymore, as he got to pick and choose who came around now. He ran the show, and it must go on. He pressed the down button with a satisfying ping to follow. The music seemed to make his thoughts more shallow as he shut his eyes and leaned back against the railings, taking a breather.

Anxiety had a way of making Quackity overthink Wilbur's failure to show up, but it wasn't like he wanted him to. He also didn't really care. He was a little bitter towards Wilbur after their argument at that restaurant. Luckily for the both of them, nobody had witnessed it, as Las Nevadas wasn't open then.

He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been so hard on Wilbur, though he had to be. The man was a terrorist after all, and a clever one at that. If he had simply let him into Las Nevadas back then truly out of the intent he said and had promised, maybe things would have played out differently.

Not to be mistaken; Quackity did want to know what Wilbur knew, but he also wanted the power that came with it, nothing more than that. He would have kicked Wilbur out anyway had he gotten what he wanted.

He stepped out under the dim light of the moon as it spilled out bright over his sleeping city. It was a nice night. Typically, it was. He wanted nothing more now than to go to sleep, but he knew that there was too much to be done yet. So he kept at his endeavors, working himself to the bone. The only comfort he received today was the text on a sheet of paper. Even that, however, hurt his eyes after hours of staring at lines of comic-sans.

If humanity didn't get wiped out by some disaster soon, he would surely find a way to starve himself out of existence. He drew in a steady breath through his nose, long and deep, as he walked down the road. The pavement was dark, freshly poured a few years ago. It was still considered new, despite its age. That's what he wanted, just what he wanted. He smiled, his teeth showing in the night.

Quackity was a hardened man, once whimsical and fun. Wilbur had watched it all happen from afar even if he had a hand in it. Despite this, he hadn't been the one who dealt it to him. Life did that for him, as the only thing Wilbur was known for was death. There were a few things that the two of them had in common: they had both grown cynical to their surroundings and the people within it. It was like the silence that filled the room of a doctors office just before they called you in. It was the same feeling.

They knew it well. Quackity more than Wilbur, as Wilbur had kept himself unaware of his own faults, for the most part. It was one of the reasons Quackity had come to resent him. He was careless. The sand moved beneath his feet when he stepped back onto it, and he was reminded of when he had put it there. He was proud of what he'd built, and he would stare upon it too many times to count. This was another thing him and Wilbur had in common. They both admired what would be their downfall.

Quackity made his way towards the grand hotel that was perched not far from where he was. It stood proud and stubborn where it loomed overhead, pounds of concrete and hard work. His eyes lingered wearily on the structure as  he messed with the keys that jingled against where they were hooked around the loop of his dress pants, grey and elegant. He seemed as a mere husk to the passers-by, moving sluggish with no real desire to be going anywhere.

Of course, though, there were no husks in Las Nevadas, as it wasn't even a real desert. Wilbur had taunted him, saying that it resembled his desire to be more than he was. Quackity never claimed to be big and powerful, or "more than he was". He had only stated that he didn't want a terrorist trampling his soil.
Wilbur almost always took offense.

He trudged along the small sidewalk planted along the way towards his destination, hoping to any gods who would listen that Wilbur wouldn't decide to speak to him. He didn't want to be bothered, not now. He just wanted to rest, having worked all day.

(This is in progress, lol)