A Break From Manhunt

I Found... Diamonds?

Another pig squeals. From just a swing of a stone axe, it turns into a pile of pork chops that float above short grass. The cobblestone was provided by Skeppy, who sits on top of a smoking furnace, leaning and swaying. Bad walks over to the oven, taking out a piece of cooked pork and places in new raw ones. The weather changed, he notes. It's colder than earlier, now sending chiller breezes across the flower-filled field. He finishes his piece, about to grab another before he finds the furnace empty. Didn't he just place some?

Tiny, mumbled giggles come from the man sitting in front of him. Bad rolls his eyes with a small grin, "Skeppy,"

"Yes?" Skeppy does a horrible job of hiding his laughter.

Bad puts a hand on his hip, the other extended, "Can I have my hard-earned meat back?"

Skeppy scoffs, "Hard-earned? You didn't even have to chase after them like I had to."

A low grumble comes from Bad's throat, he mutters, "Yeah, I had to chase after you. That's worse."

Skeppy contemplates that for a moment, tapping his box-chin while humming a long, thinking Hmm noise. Bad grimaces, his eyes narrowed. Skeppy didn't even need the pork. He'd already eaten all of Bad's other 'hard-earned meat', including four pieces of pork and his only piece of chicken. The fact that Skeppy ran around right after eating them just so he could lower his hunger only ticked Bad even more. It was a complete waste of food!

"Just give me my pork!"

"I don't even have it." Skeppy sways his crossed leg.

Bad slaps a hand over his forehead, dragging it down his face, "Skeppy, you're the only other person here, I know you have it!

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, Badboyhalo," Skeppy shrugs, "I really don't have it."

Bad lets out an accidental laugh, eyes widening before he tries to hide in his fist.

"What, you don't believe me? You can search my pockets if you want!" Skeppy leans forward.

"No, it's not that! Well, I mean, I don't believe you but—"

"Wow—"

Bad laughs again, shaking his head and crossing his arms, "You called me Badboyhalo."

Skeppy leans back, head tilted, "Isn't that your name? Badboyhalo?" He gasps, "Or did you lie to me? I knew Badboyhalo was a stupid name."

"No, I didn't lie! That is my name, but no one really calls me that." Bad smiles. The smile vanishes, "Hey, wait! What do you mean you knew—"

"What do people call you then?"

Bad huffs. Technically, only his friends called him Bad. Was Skeppy considered a friend? When Bad was younger, the other demons called him Halo.

He hated that name.

Skeppy sways like the innocent muffin he isn't. Bad shakes his head, "Bad. Just call me Bad."

Skeppy pulls out a cooked porkchop, lifting his box to his liking and shoving it in his mouth. Mouth full, Skeppy says, "Okay, Bad."

"Yeah, okay, now give me back my food!"

"Hmmm," Skeppy does the annoying 'thinking-humming' thing again, and Bad grits his teeth. "Nah."

The demon lets out a loud ugh. It's not worth it.

He leaves Skeppy and his pork, quickly finds a sheep, and swings his axe with a hushed sorry. He makes his own furnace with borrowed cobblestone, placing a few planks as firewood and watches his hard-earned mutton sizzle.