[PUNCH CLOCK ANIMAL] ASHTRAY

[skinstealer]

  
 
Bucket sits down, places their hand near the burn and starts working away- only for there to be an immediate kickback, a creeping dread sneaking into Bucket as soon as they make contact.
  

BUCKET: ...What did he burn you with?
CHELSEA: Bazil said it was the kind of cigarette he always has.
BUCKET: There's a bit of a sting.
CHELSEA: It's...not going away, either. 

   
She frowns, looking more and more concerned. 
  

CHELSEA: Usually this kind of thing fades away after you've had your hands on it this long.
BUCKET: That's concerning... when we return I will bring in an expert.
CHELSEA: I mean, it's fine, I've had worse…

  
She pushes her face back into their neck, watching to make sure her horns didn’t scratch them. 
  

CHELSEA: I just want to be with you right now.
BUCKET: ....Are we going to be okay after this trip?
CHELSEA: ...what do you mean?
BUCKET: Does he have any motives beyond making this job miserable?

   
Chelsea lets out a deep, exhausted sigh. 
    

CHELSEA: He wants my job.
BUCKET: Why?
CHELSEA: I don't know, he has some kind of fucked up crush on Spit or something...he's probably hoping he can bait her into killing me. 
CHELSEA: With him knowing about Bazil and god knows what else, he might be able to.
BUCKET: He cannot find a promotion if he does not see the day. 
BUCKET: If he were to pull something, I would be coming for him.
CHELSEA: Would Rein let you?
BUCKET: Rein could forgive me.
CHELSEA: It's not the forgiving type...god, this is fucked. 

   
She squeezes her eyes shut, grimacing. 
  

CHELSEA: I'm not opposed to killing him, trust me, but it'd have big consequences for you, ones I don't want you to ever have to deal with. 
CHELSEA: You haven't seen the cult, not up close. 
CHELSEA: You haven't seen how much they love him.
BUCKET: The cult would not want to show their faces in Solitude.
CHELSEA: I'd hope not, and I know you could take on whatever they threw at you, but I don't want you to have to go through this for my sake.
BUCKET: I do not fear them, and they will give up eventually.
CHELSEA: Then...you want to kill him. For real.
BUCKET: If he becomes a genuine threat to our lives... yes.
CHELSEA: We could frame it on me. Spit won't kill me for that. 
CHELSEA: I think.
BUCKET: I will take the blame, you do not need to be punished for my actions. This is assuming we get to this point of course.
CHELSEA: He's not going to back off on us. We're already at this point.
BUCKET: I really don't want to do this....
CHELSEA: I know. 

 

  
She gives them a nuzzle, still holding onto them tight. 
  

CHELSEA: I don't want to either, and I especially don't want that blood on your hands. 
CHELSEA: But, if we don't...
BUCKET: I could perhaps put him in a position to back down.
BUCKET: If it doesn't happen well... whatever it takes.
CHELSEA: What'd even make him back off at this point? 
CHELSEA: I've known him for a good few years and as far as I can tell, he's as similar to Spit when it comes to weaknesses. 
CHELSEA: He doesn't care enough about anything.
BUCKET: I have a trick up my sleeve perhaps, but it'd be quite ugly.
CHELSEA: Whatever techniques he's using are uglier.
BUCKET: ...You're right.
CHELSEA: So what's your trick?
BUCKET: If I were to reveal it, there's a chance he could peek yes?
CHELSEA: With however he's getting into our heads, I guess...
BUCKET: It'll happen when we get to it.
CHELSEA: If you're sure.
BUCKET: Our options are limited, I'd rather take as few lives as possible.
CHELSEA: Then...I guess we act tomorrow, unless you have any idea on how to break into his motel room…
CHELSEA: Scratch that, we don't want to cause trouble for the people running the place. I don't want to make somebody clean this up.
BUCKET: We'll get him in a quieter spot.

  
Chelsea goes quiet, resting her head on their shoulder without saying much at all.
  

BUCKET: Please be safe until we deal with this.
CHELSEA: You know I can't guarantee that.
BUCKET: As best as possible.
CHELSEA: I'll try.
BUCKET: We'll make it.
CHELSEA: You promise?
BUCKET: I do.

  
Chelsea takes a deep breath. 
  

CHELSEA: I...I know I'm not the best, about permanence. 
CHELSEA: About processing things and knowing they'll last, that sort of thing. 
CHELSEA: Any time I'm away from you, I could just get my skull crushed in by Spit. She could just do that, and there's nothing I could do to stop her. 
CHELSEA: I don't really have a sense of the future, or what could happen, but…

  
She looks up at them, worry clear on her face. 
  

CHELSEA: If we have to kill this guy to keep our shot of getting out of here safe, of getting a life away from these gods, then I'll do it. 
CHELSEA: We'll do it.
BUCKET: Whatever we have to do.
CHELSEA: I love you. 
CHELSEA: I know I say it every time we're together, and you must be sick of it by now-
BUCKET: I could never hear enough of it, and I wish I had more chances for it.
CHELSEA: Once this is all said and done with, I'll tell you again. 

  
She adjusts herself in their arms. 
  

CHELSEA: Could you lay us down?

  
Bucket obliges, trying to get them both comfortable on the bed. 
 

BUCKET: Like so?

  
She scoots into a better position, nodding.
  

BUCKET: Tell me if I can improve this at all.
CHELSEA: ...hold me tighter.
BUCKET: Thisss better? 

  
Bucket nuzzles up to her with a little smile.
  

CHELSEA: Watch the burn... 

 
She makes sure her cheek would remain untouched, doing her best. 
  

CHELSEA: That's perfect.    
BUCKET: There we go, sorry for that. We will rest up and resolve this soon enough.
CHELSEA: Goodnight... 

   
She closes her eyes, taking in her partner’s warmth. 
  

CHELSEA: We'll try to be okay in the morning.

  
Bucket’s already half asleep, out like a light as usual.
 

BUCKET: Mmhmm...

 

 
Chelsea smiles, unable to keep herself from doing so even in this dire situation. 

Tiny comforts, she supposes.