Captain Quigley arrives with a box of her signature fresh 'n' strange donuts to sell for today's bake sale. Cinnamon and jalapeno with a strawberry glaze is a surprisingly successful treat, and she's busy setting her stuff out when she feels eyes on her.
Turning to look, there's Wyatt with pink icing on his face. The look in his eyes is strange, and Jupiter scrunches her nose at it, confused, "Sup, Double Doubleyew?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Pink icing on his face and a half eaten cupcake in each hand, Wyatt looks on with a distant grin. "You hair looks very nice today, Joop. It's like.... springs."
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
"Thank you...Wy." Jupiter cocks her head to the side like a clockwork bird. Like a gazelle that just heard a lion rustling in the brush nearby. "Pink looks...nice on you?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter aggressively regrets palming and eating one of those mushrooms Winter Carmichael set out because she's pretty sure she's tripping mad balls right now. Could've sworn that was just a button mushroom what the hell. "Uh, Wy," she sets the donuts down, box open, to better stare at him curiously. "You know you got birds?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
She opens her mouth to reply to this, and then shuts it, looking a little fish-faced the way she frowns, thinking. Jupiter possesses just enough sense to not be wholly insulting when she asks, still curious, "'Kay. I mean, seems fair. This a new passion? Where'd you find all the birds?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
"They just—" A french bulldog comes up and starts licking Wyatt's ankle. "Like me, I guess? Hey, do you..." Wyatt looks at Jupiter now with big hazel eyes, then slowly starts to walk towards her, his entourage of animals trailing behind.
Then he trips on his shoe laces and falls flat on his face.
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
The birds momentarily flutter away, then land right back on Wyatt once he's face-planted. The french bulldog immediately runs up to start nuzzling the side of Wyatt's face, and Jupiter sets aside the overwhelming urge to go pet the dog first to kneel down and check on Wyatt.
The concern on her face is real enough, though mixed plainly with confusion. She lights a hand on his shoulder, shaking him less gently than she probably should. More of a jostling, really. "Hey buddy that was quite a spill. You still got all your teeth?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
"Yeah," he groans. It's not the worst spill he's ever taken, there wasn't even a broom involved, but it'll leave bruises. That's all forgotten when he looks up to see absolute queen Jupiter Quigley. He gets to his knees, taking her hand to pull himself up. He's overcome with butterflies in his stomach.
Or maybe that's less the butterflies and more the strange mixing of several different potion-laced cupcakes. Suddenly, Wyatt doubles over and throws up all over his queen's shoes, a smooth rainbow of half digested cake and icing.
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
"Ohmigod," Jupiter says, because what else do you say to throw up that looks a little bit like a melted unicorn all over your sneaks. A passing moment of some weirdly misplaced anger-disgust-frustrated flickers across her face, but the instinct to damage control is stronger than the urge to shout about ruined shoes.
Anyway, the frenchie is making a bee line for Wyatt's slightly used cupcake mush, and she has to throw a hand out to catch the dog by the face to keep him from getting it. "Uh," she says, reaching the other hand out tentatively to pat a gentle circle on Wyatt's back. "The fuck, dude? You feeling better now?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
"Woof, alright," Jupiter cringes, nose wrinkling. For a second, she holds that pose, unsure of what to do. Well, not unsure of what to do, unsure if it's really what she wants to do. It is, she supposes. Wyatt looks like he's about to horf again any second, and clearly he's eaten something that's swirled his brain right up. Just leaving him like this makes her own stomach feel weird (or is that just the smell?). "That didn't look like forty cuppy cakes worth of vom, so I'm gonna get you a trash can."
She scoops the random french bulldog up under her arm like a quaffle — who does this even belong to?? — and stands while it scrambles and whines, getting nowhere in her grip, and kicks a waste basket in Wyatt's direction with her filthy shoes. There's really no way to look cool while mom-ing and underclassman. Oh well. "Want water, too?"
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peckenpaugh2019-12-03 12:57 pm
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Turning to look, there's Wyatt with pink icing on his face. The look in his eyes is strange, and Jupiter scrunches her nose at it, confused, "Sup, Double Doubleyew?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Meanwhile, a couple of small birds land on his shoulder and he lets them nibble off one of his cupcakes.
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Then he trips on his shoe laces and falls flat on his face.
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
The concern on her face is real enough, though mixed plainly with confusion. She lights a hand on his shoulder, shaking him less gently than she probably should. More of a jostling, really. "Hey buddy that was quite a spill. You still got all your teeth?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Or maybe that's less the butterflies and more the strange mixing of several different potion-laced cupcakes. Suddenly, Wyatt doubles over and throws up all over his queen's shoes, a smooth rainbow of half digested cake and icing.
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Anyway, the frenchie is making a bee line for Wyatt's slightly used cupcake mush, and she has to throw a hand out to catch the dog by the face to keep him from getting it. "Uh," she says, reaching the other hand out tentatively to pat a gentle circle on Wyatt's back. "The fuck, dude? You feeling better now?"
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
Jupiter Assists the Slow Collapse of Wyatt Webberley
She scoops the random french bulldog up under her arm like a quaffle — who does this even belong to?? — and stands while it scrambles and whines, getting nowhere in her grip, and kicks a waste basket in Wyatt's direction with her filthy shoes. There's really no way to look cool while mom-ing and underclassman. Oh well. "Want water, too?"