milliways_bar | (no subject)

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wilford warfstache

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Los Santos is hosting a track event this week, which means Wilford is off the air this week while the networks all fill their scheduling with cars flying off ramps and into the sea, or into the street, or into the helicopters filming the event. Wilford hasn't had a full week off in ages, so he's taking total advantage of it. He does not care that it's the middle of the afternoon. He's still in his pyjamas over by the fire, nursing a beer, and going over the books for his new restaurant so he knows exactly what sort of mess he'll be inheriting.

Buster is still very much in trouble after his adventure, so he's being kept on a literal short leash, which has been tied to the table leg so he doesn't wander off again. He can complain all he likes, but Wilford has become very good at ignoring him.

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"It's not my job to look out for him!" Brooke is arguing with Fry nearby.

"It's all our jobs to look after him, he's little." Fry says. "He can hardly talk, he needs us, take some responsibility!"

He walks out, and Brooke pouts.

The kids arguing excites Buster even further, transforming his complaints into needy whining as he tries to get away. Wilford continues to ignore him, and drowns his noise out by turning up the volume on his laptop.

Brooke spots Buster, and goes over to give him some fuss.

Buster wiggles and twists around, bumping into the coffee table as he tries to find the best spot for belly rubs.

"Don't untie him. He's grounded," Wilford says, picking up his beer before it gets spilled.

"Welcome to the club." Brooke says to Buster. "I'm always in the doghouse."

Buster licks and nips playfully at Brooke, while still whining to be let off his leash. He thinks he's clever and tries to twist his way out of his collar, but he's not being ignored as much as it seems. Before he can even start, Wilford reaches down to hold him in place.

Buster yowls like he's being murdered.

"Stop," Wilford says.

Buster stops. Immediately. He is apparently not being murdered. Only now does Wilford look down at his dog, and at Brooke.

"What'd you do to my dog?"

"I just petted him like a normal person." Brooke says, indignantly, having stopped as soon as Buster yowled. "He yelped when you touched him, so I guess it was your fault."

That earns Brooke an incredulous glare.

"Uh-huh." He lets go of Buster, giving him a little warning glare as well. Buster stays quiet and still this time.

"Which one are you?" he asks Brooke.

Edited 2018-03-25 20:46 (UTC)

"Brooke." Brooke says, folding her arms and meeting the stare. "I don't hurt animals. I like animals."

"Didn't say you hurt him, did I?" Wilford asks.

You just have to acknowledge the dog exists to set him off half the time.

"Your old man take your pocket money yet?"

"No, he said as Bar has it for safekeeping that was okay." Brooke says. "He didn't want it for himself, he doesn't want us to use it for 'stupid and dangerous things'."

Ugh. How tedious. "It's your money. It's to be spent on whatever the hell you want."

Parents are so useless.

"Have you tried being five? Everyone is soooo bossy."

"Yeah. It sucked." He takes a drink of his beer and sets the bottle back down on the table now that the danger of it being knocked over is gone. "You gotta learn to out-boss them."

Wilford should not be giving children advice, probably.

"I'm biding my time." Brooke says.

There may be hope for this kid yet. Enough such that an idea begins to form in Wilford's head.

"What was your ass-chewing about?" he asks.

"Fry told me and Coral to watch Gil at school to work out which kid is picking on him." Brooke says. "And when it was my turn I didn't."

"You getting paid to babysit?" Wilford asks.

"My answer exactly." Brooke says. "It's probably some other three year old. What are they going to do, flush him down the bog?"

"You're right. It's not your job. Don't do anything for free that you can get paid to do."

Solid life advice that Wilford lives by.

"What about homework?" Brooke asks.

"You get a scholarship for doing your homework. That's money for college. You can't do shit without a degree these days, and nobody wants to pay you for the things you can do without one. If you go to college, you get to be everyone's boss."

Buster decides he's been quiet for long enough and shuffles closer to Brooke.

Ahaha not in England you don't.

"What if I want to be a ninja? Or an ice hockey champion?" Brooke asks, petting Buster again.

"Ice hockey champions get paid. Ninjas probably do too. But you have to work your ass off to get there."

Wilford has never met a ninja, so he's not actually sure on that one.

"But I'm talking about labour. If you're going to do something for someone else, make sure you're getting something out of it, or they'll walk all over you."

"I don't mind working my ass off when it's something I like." Brooke says.

"But I'm not babysitting Gil."

"Good. Don't."

Babysitting sounds awful anyway.

The kid seems like she'd be easy to convince. This is probably a bad idea, but what's the worst that could happen?

"What's it like where you're from, anyway?" he asks, already somewhat knowing the answer to the question.

Expansive shrug.

"Same as when you followed Dad home, I guess, except it's winter."

"I'd kind of like to go back. I didn't get to see much last time, since someone hit me in the head."

Such a shame.

"I don't think Mum and Dad will invite you." Brooke says, scritching Buster behind the ears.

"Can't you open the door?" Wilford asks.

He's pretty sure he's seen the kids come in without their folks before.

"Yes, I can." Brooke says. "But I'm not supposed to bring anyone back without asking."

She tilts her head slightly.

"If I'm going to get punished, what's in it for me?"

See Wilford, she learns fast.

She does! It makes things so much easier.

Wilford laughs, surprised at how easy it was. "That's how you get low-balled," he says. "Don't ask for an offer. Make a demand."

It's just good business sense.

Brooke considers this. What does she want that the money she already has stashed away can't buy from the bar?

"I want a tarantula." she says. "And for you to make sure it doesn't get confiscated and sent to the zoo."

Wilford nods. He can get a tarantula. They're kind of trendy pets lately, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find one in a pet shop somewhere.

"All right. I can do that."

The second half of the deal will be a little more tricky with her father being who he is, but he'll think of something.

"One spider in exchange for opening the door. Deal?"

Brooke considers this.

"I have some conditioners."

She hesitates for a moment.

"You have to promise not to hurt my world or my family. And you have to promise when you want to go home you come back before my bedtime, which is eight o'clock."

Wilford looks positively offended.

“I have no intention of hurting your world or anyone on it,” he says. “I’m a journalist. I’m not allowed to touch anything when I’m not at home.”

Brooke looks completely unmoved by his offended face.

"I'm going to get in a lot of trouble if I'm caught as it is." she says. "So promise."

“I promise,” Wilford says. “I just want to go have a look around.”

"Okay." Brooke spits on her hand and offers it to shake.

Wilford shakes her hand and nods.

"Keep that attitude up, and you'll have your own business by the time you're twelve," he says.

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