𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔. | 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐫 ♥

"You should take your helmet off more." Wilbur noted to no one in particular, eyes downcast onto the focused man, nearly snorting at the ram horns poking up from the top of his helmet.

He was sure he could smell Schlatt's sinister grin at that point, just as sure he could hear him purr too, "What, you wanna' kiss me that bad? Aw, Wil, c'mere." He sneered, snickering cruelly and Wilbur offering a keen roll of his eyes.

"Yes, now gimme' a smooch." Wilbur cooed, not even half playing like Schlatt had been, snatching Schlatt's helmet from his head, holding it high to the air, leering his nose in to bury itself into the top of Schlatt's brunette busied head, the newly recruited astronaut groaning with a faceted twitch of his nose as he continued on his wires, face maybe just a little warm, fingers fumbling as he glanced from the vibrant colored wires to the pamphlet guide for the wires clenched in his hand, the paper wrinkled and torn from its age. Wilbur was sure he could stare for hours at the dumb mutton-chops sculpting his face, and the fond look unable to drift from his eyes as he fumbled around with the wires in his gloved palms for maybe a little too long.