(no subject)

[omgplsstop]

The door opens, and the two people who walk through pause for a fraction when they realise where the door opened to, but this is just as good as where they were going.

"You're at least getting a tree. You have to," Nichola says.

"And invite that creep into my house? That's how you get vampires," Wilford says.

"It's basically the law. You have to."

They head over to the fire, both sitting down on the sofa and invading each other's space. Wilford leans against him and puts his feet up on the table.

"No way. I heard he's a drunk anyway," he says.

"And you're not?" Nichola asks. She pulls out her phone, remembering too late that it doesn't work here.

"I don't get wasted and break into people's houses all night."

This argument may go on for a while.

[two pups, one mun.]

Comments

[omgplsstop]

"If you're not here to help, then you don't get a say," Nichola says.

She turns back to Wilford. "And you need to get your head out of your ass."

[cottoncandypink]

Apparently this has turned into a proper argument somehow. Wilford really might wind up getting stabbed.

"All I said was I'm not getting a tree. The rest is on him!"

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"Who are you again?" Bernard asks Nichola. "What do you want?"

[omgplsstop]

"Who are you?" Nichola demands. "I don't recall inviting you into this conversation in the first place."

So many nosy people everywhere.

[cottoncandypink]

Nichola has flown straight past the point of screwing around, and is clearly starting to get genuinely angry.

"Hey. Leave him alone," Wilford says, handing Nichola his glass of wine. "He's just being funny. He doesn't mean anything."

He'd rather not get stabbed today because someone else took a joke too far, thanks.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"I am Bernard Black, I was sitting here, enjoying a nice civilised bottle of wine and a fag, and you interrupted me screeching at my friend here." Bernard says.

He turns to Wilford. "Hey, hey, Willy, let's go play snooker until Fran stops nagging us. I mean, it's only fourth of December for fuck's sake, you have plenty of time to decide if you want to be Santa, and if you do you're gonna have to shave off the pink because it's really, really obvious."

[omgplsstop]

Nichola takes the wine, but she doesn't drink it. It might wind up being thrown before too long, though.

"What in the fuck is 'Fran'?" she asks.

She was having a perfectly good day before these two idiots ganged up on her.

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford finds himself a bit conflicted. He's not sure how he wound up mediating... whatever this is, but he doesn't like it. Also, Bernard's not making much sense at all.

"Willy?" he asks, suddenly on Nichola's side. "Excuse you, what?"

What a horrible name. How dare anybody call him that.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"It wasn't me. I know when I've passed wind." Bernard says to Wilford, finishing his wine glass.

"I still don't know who you are." he points at Nichola. "Or what you've got against trees. You know, every time you chop one down, the planet gets two degrees warmer? And then you have to do yoga, and eat kale, and all sorts of wank."

[omgplsstop]

Could this guy be any more annoying? Probably not, because he seems like he's trying awfully hard.

"Get a life," Nichola says, splashing the wine at Bernard and slamming the glass down. She doesn't stick around after that, and gives Wilford a good shove on her way toward the door.

[cottoncandypink]

"Nick," Wilford says.

It's too late. She's throwing her wine. Wilford can't get out of her way quickly enough, which means he's going to be on her shitlist for a while now.

"What the fuck?" he asks Bernard.

Not that he sticks around to get an answer. He needs to make sure she doesn't take this out on him for the next year.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"Yes, take your unresolved sexual tension somewhere else!" Bernard yells after them. "Christmas decorations should be banned before the twentieth anyway, they encourage singing, it's antisocial, and fairy lights, you know, your dog could chew on them and BANG, he's electrocuted, and then what will the poor little boy make of that, huh? So... so you don't come crying to me when your tree is a crispy mess of death and disappointment and he knows you're not Santa because you didn't shave!"

Bastards!

He goes to the bar and demands a new bottle of wine, and a replacement shirt, which he requests to be put on Fran Whateverhernameis' tab.