Was It Worth The Cost?

So Here's. The Mothah. Fuckin'.. Coffee?

Motivation is taking a turn for the worst, and as I'm writing this chapter I'm hungover, sorry if the quality is worse than normal.

Quick note- Decided to start using accent translators/generators, because I don't feel like botching them with my dumb guessing.

By the way, you guys should totally check out the song up there, it's catchy.

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     It's been about a week since that day, and it passed by slowly enough that everyone involved had almost forgotten. Between the multitude of projects Thirteen and North had to face when they returned to school, hanging out with their friends, and the brief times they had to team up to babysit their siblings, their minds simply didn't have much time to continue pondering the little incident. England and UK were experiencing some kind of rush at their jobs, resulting in less time spent at home -- not that the boys were complaining.

     The brothers were actually relaxing on the couch now, Thirteen engaged in a rather competitive single-player action, while North had taken to playing games on his phone and adding commentary when he found it appropriate.

     "Darn it! Every time I try to kill Xengorth in the final battle he goes absolute ham," The frustrated older brother turns his head to look at North, looking as if we wanted to drop the controller on the floor and walk away right then and there.

     "That's what happens when you kill his daughter at the start, bud, shouldn't have been a jerk." Came the bored, but smug response from someone who's long beaten the game multiple times. "It basically turns hardmode on."

     "What the heck! That's why it was so much harder than I remembered it being?" An affirmative nod. "This is ridiculous.." Despite his frustration he turned back to the screen and began brutally assaulting the buttons and joy-sticks with the ferocity of Ireland during one of his temper-tantrums, all while his northern brother laughed from beside him.

     Before long Scotland burst into the living-room, "Oi! Brats, yer faither texted me, says it's time ye got some new clase. Pause 'at damn gam an' gie in th' motur."

     Both boys groaned but complied, scampering around to throw on their shoes so they could meet their legal guardian outside on the porch.. Which turned into waiting for Thirteen to find a mysterious vanishing left shoe for the next thirty minutes.

     When the boy finally ran down the staircase with both feet sufficiently covered and laced, he was questioned as to where the damn thing was- and everyone had a bit of a laugh when he told them it had been behind the toilet, half covered in a stray rag that had fallen and never gotten picked up.

     After that, things went smoothly enough, the trio arrived at the mall, Scotland threw them a few hundred pounds each and pretty much told them to get lost. "Bide together, meit me back haur when yoo're dain. ye hae yer phones oan ye reit? caa if anythin' happens."

     Setting two eleven-year-old boys loose in a large mall probably wasn't the greatest of ideas to strike parenting one-o-one, be it due to the laps in safety for the children, or the poor saps who were shopping at the same time.. It made no difference.

     A majority of their attention was spent on goofing around in the clothes stores they found.. So, when it had been just about an hour thirty since they were dropped off, North got a series of frustrated texts from the Scot, asking them to hurry the hell up so he could get out of the mall and get back home.

     The younger colony grinned sheepishly and shot back an apology, letting him know that they'll try to finish up quickly.

     Then the two boys quickly redirected from that cool toy store they'd been heading to, to the shop nearby full of expensive looking clothing articles. They did manage to pick out a few pair of trousers and shirts, but as always, dashing through the isles seemed to be the more appealing course of action.