Smiling didn't mean to make Ming cry

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Trouble: Heard you were sacrificed to Satan by our resident idiot.

Don't worry, I've already informed the witch, and

the-idiot-who-thinks-he's-sane has been properly dealt with.

Mischief: ...Hold on a sec, Satan? Really? That's a

bit extreme, don't you think?

Trouble: Who are you, and what have you done to my sister?

Because my sister would agree he's Satan.

Mischief: Look, he's annoying, sure, and

his face is incredibly punchable, but Satan?

That feels like giving him too much credit.

Trouble: Sweet little sister of mine,

I assure you—he is definitely Satan. Full stop.

Mischief: Hmmm...

Trouble: Don't you dare doubt me.

Mischief: Not doubting...

Trouble: You're totally doubting me.

Mischief: ...Maybe?

Trouble: [Dramatic sigh]

Mischief: Oi! Don't you dare write that out

like we're in some bad novel.

Trouble: I can and I will. You know this.

Mischief: Stop acting like a child.

Trouble: Says the one permanently stuck at 15.

Mischief: Right— WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE AND

COMMENTING ON MY HEIGHT? FIRST

CHESSMAN, NOW YOU—leave me alone!

Trouble: I suppose the Chessman does have functioning eyes.

Mischief: And you won't if you keep this up.

Trouble: Oh, I'm quaking in my boots.

Mischief: You should be.

Trouble: Okay, okay, I'll stop! Just—stay away from Sunflower,

alright? And for the love of God, don't forget to eat.

Mischief: 👍


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