Chapter 4

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CW: mentions of death

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By the time it reached six o'clock, Wilbur had drank at least five shots of various alcoholic drinks. He didn't seem to be disoriented at all, but rather, his movements were more sharp, more abrupt, and he'd started looking around like a cornered animal every time you entered a building. Privately, you could share the sentiment, but you weren't about to say so to him.

You'd done your best to keep your temper throughout the tour, but you'd snapped at him a couple times. You didn't think he liked you very much at this point. Well, you didn't either.

The lobby had a few people in it, reading magazines and playing chess, when you and Wilbur arrived. Charlie was at the register, grinning like ever, his skin glistening faintly green. He told everyone he had three hundred bones, but he'd confided to you privately that he didn't have any. You weren't sure what to make of that, but it was pretty sweet of him.

"Quackity from Las Nevadas is meeting you out in the garden. He went there with Tommyinnit from L'manberg," Charlie said cheerfully.

You nodded. "Thanks, Charlie."

"Of course, Y/n from L'manberg and Wilbur Soot from L'manberg!"

You shivered a little. You'd never get over Charlie's odd way of naming people. Wilbur glanced curiously at Charlie, as you led him through a hallway and towards the garden. "He talks weird."

"He talks perfectly fine," you said irritably.

Wilbur shrugged, giving a cheeky grin. "Just saying. I didn't know you were from L'manberg."

"I moved in after you, uh, died, and only for a short while," you muttered--you didn't particularly want to tell him your entire life story.

Wilbur was about to say something else, but you quickly cut him off by slamming open the doors to the garden patio, startling a couple hotel residents. The pool was over to your right, and the garden was mostly filled with succulents and plants that didn't die in the desert climate. Quackity sat at a table ahead, with Tommy. You'd met him a couple times, and he never really talked much.

"Wilbur," Quackity greeted curtly, as the two of you took seats at the table.

"Quackity! My favorite! And Tommy, more favorite than Quackity!"

Both Tommy and Quackity shifted uncomfortably. "How much did he have to drink?" Tommy mumbled.

"Five shots," you replied.

"Still not enough!" Wilbur grinned.

"Anyways, how do you like our country?" Quackity asked, getting to the point quickly.

"It's positively lovely. I'm excited to live here!"

You flinched. This maniac was going to live here? Quackity hadn't told you about this at all. You didn't even know Quackity knew Wilbur. There had been no consultation, no warning. You glanced over at Quackity, who looked just as shocked as you were, a blank expression on your face.

"You want to live here?" Quackity asked, his tone completely flat.

Wilbur frowned. "Well of course, you invited me, didn't you?"

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