-----
With the younger twins (and Miz) having their plan together, and Stan having spent enough time with Miz on her own part in things ('acting lessons' and stuff, and how and when to go about playing things up for the audience and the people they'd be expecting at the beach, among other things)...
...and with Ford and the kid being pretty quiet up on the 'roof' of the cabin and seemingly able to (maybe) keep themselves from trying to kill each other (...for now…) and from re'addicting' somebody or another to somebody else (and it had damn well better stay that way, or the kid was getting punched in the face again, big-time)...
...yeah, things were about as quiet as they were gonna get for awhile.
So Stan decided it was time for dinner.
(Besides, the two of 'em were gonna be right above his head while he cooked. If either of them started a fight, Stan would hear them inside the cabin. The soundproofing on the thing wasn't that good, not by a longshot.)
"Hey, Miz," Stan said to the dragon-lady as she dusted herself off, in her human-dragon-child form once again. "You want to help me break in the new kitchen up there?" he said, tossing a thumb up deck-ways. Because he and Ford hadn't just finished the exterior of the cabin off that morning, after getting Bill and the teach back to the school again; they'd gone off to the city dump after that, and Ford had managed to grab up enough parts of what he'd needed to make up some fancy-pants 'not needing a lot of electricity to run this thing' stove stuff.
Miz lit up. "Yes! I would LOVE to!"
Stan smiled. He climbed up the rope ladder to the deck, as Miz floated her way up there herself, and he kind of wondered what she'd think of the place. It wasn't some fancy kitchen thing; not by a longshot, but… Stan had made sure that there were two propane burners on the stove, to go with the four electric ones that were working off of an old car battery… (which Ford had apparently hooked up to the solar panels he had moved off of the washer and dryer -- which had gone inside the cabin, with a longer water-hookup hose that ran outside for an eventual dunking in the seawater below -- and strung those panels up to hang off of the sides of the cabin's roof instead, in a sort of clothesline-between-the-roof-and-the-main-mast arrangement).
Miz pattered around on deck, looking over all of the most-apparent changes. (Ford hadn't just been idle on the cabin's roof; he'd been checking and rechecking some of the electrical connections up there, and water- and weather-proofing quite a bit of, well, everything. --Including the roof itself, which had still needed a little work.)
Stan walked over to the door to the cabin, and opened it up for Miz.
"Same arrangement as the 'Two," Stan told her, as he followed her inside. Ford had 'felt no need to mess with perfection' on the subject of the best cabin layout for a boat meant for sailing, and Stan had (more or less) shrugged and gone along with it. "Kitchen-galley and dining-work area first-thing," he pointed out. "With the bunks and main living quarters in the back," he gestured next.
"Okay." Miz nodded, looking around. She glanced up at Stan, "I got some peppers. All different kinds, and the spices too." Both scanned and saved into a room of her Mindscape that she'd built just for food-related stuff. "Also, I learned that Paprika is actually a pepper. I never noticed that. Probably because I never scanned a pepper, but then I did and it had the same make up as paprika." Miz told him, "I never used paprika but it was a pretty color so I scanned it. But now I know something new!"
"Good," said Stan. He considered teasing her about liking paprika-peppers on the spot, but then decided to save that one for later. (Didn't seem the right time for it; he wanted her feeling good about doing things for her brother and friends for awhile, not embarrassed 'cause then she'd not like the feeling and end up learning the wrong thing, there. Better to let it settle in for now as a 'good thing' for awhile.)
"You get a look at anything new of the 'same old', too?" he asked her. Miz nodded. Good. More human food she could use for stuff back home in her own 'set, then. (Maybe keep her from feeling too desperate about more human stuff later...) "And all the seeds you wanted?" he asked next, just to be sure. He'd forgotten to ask about the not-fresh stuff the first time. (Hey, he was gettin' old. He was allowed.) Speaking of... "You need any cookbooks too? For stuff you maybe, y'know, 'know', but maybe don't know?" he asked her next.
Miz nodded then shook her head. "Seeds yes, I've got a garden back home. Cook books no, I--" she looked embarrassed. "I don't like following instructions and measuring stuff…" She looked even more embarrassed. "...probably why I'm terrible at baking…"
Yeah, okay. "How did you usually learn recipes and stuff, then?" Stan asked her, as he moved forward into the galley area. He wasn't exactly the best baker, but he wasn't the worst either. He usually just followed the recipes, though; he didn't know too many other ways to do it.
"I just… toss stuff into a wok and go for it." Miz replied. "Pretty much self-taught?"
Huh. "You ever try watchin' those online videos instead? --The ones that actually take as long as it takes?" Stan asked her.
Miz nodded. "I do, but I always get bored partway through and improvise. And as long as it's not baking, the food still turns out fine and yummy, so… eh?" She shrugged.
...Yeahhhh, Stan could see that happening. And he knew first-hand exactly what kinds of stuff a bored person (*cough* Mabel *cough*) could create 'artistically' when she decided to 'improvise' in the kitchen. (Shack rule was that anything she made, she ate. No foisting it off on anybody else unless Stan cleared it first. ...which he sometimes did, y'know, to people he didn't like. --Mailed a couple things out on one occasion or another too, even. Heh. Luckily, his niece had had a stomach of titanium, or somethin'.) But if Miz actually wanted good human-food baking, and maybe didn't care so much how she got it...
Stan thought about that one for a moment. "Any of your friends back home like baking stuff?"
Miz looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Well, he's embarrassed by it, but yeah."
"Don't have to tell me who, kid," Stan told her. "Was just askin' because I thought, hey, maybe if that other guy likes baking, then maybe give him a copy of those cookbooks with all those boring recipes and instructions to follow, instead." He winked at her.
"Ah okay. Well, he likes baking, but he never does it, since he's afraid someone will find out about it. He's got a complex about it, since he's supposed to be a rough and tough demon-imp so yeah…" Miz tilted her head. "I should give him his own private kitchen…"
Private kitchen, nothing. "Yeah, maybe no. That'd just get the guy caught out that much quicker, if he don't already have one wherever this guy's living, right?" Stan gave her an odd look. "You can't just toss up one of those perception filters for him on some other oven someplace, hand him a bunch of those cookbooks, and let him have at it? Then just say that you got the stuff from some other store nearby instead of him, later, when a bunch of hot baked goods just, heh, 'magically' show up?" he asked her.
Miz grinned. "I think he'd love that." She glanced around again. "Actually, I cheat with magic for all my baking, since… ah… I'm bad at it. Not like it turns out toxic, it tastes fine, it just doesn't look very appealing."
"Hey, not like we've got an oven in here," Stan pointed out. "Too dangerous, on a wooden boat like this. --Even with magic," he added, giving her a look.
Miz nodded. "Oven explosions are super dangerous. That's how I lost one of my jobs back as a human, the bakery I worked at exploded…" she said plainly, as if she were talking about the weather.
Stan winced. "Everybody come out in one piece?" he asked. "Or…" He'd seen first-hand what some explosions looked like after the fact. Up close and personal. There was a reason he only ever went with smokebombs for junk, and was always real careful with the kind of ones he used…
"Yeah, there was a large rolling cart with trays between the oven and the head baker so it blocked the blast. He was a little singed but otherwise fine. It happened super early in the morning before my shift started. Still sucked though." Miz pouted. "I liked my job there. Got free donuts."
Stan nodded, as he moved to the side and skipped the rest of the tour for now, jumping straight to where things actually were in the galley area. (Hey, they had hungry jerks and idiots and demons out there who hadn't eaten anything yet. Priorities. ...He was just glad that he'd found another thing to have the dragon-lady thinking about, that had her thinking about other people, and not just herself. Getting her past only thinking about what she wanted, remembering that there were other people who might want different things than her -- or might say something different to her if they'd been there -- and stopping to think about that? Was all good in Stan's book. What with the 'thinking about what her sister would say' thing, and the thing that had just happened out on the beach, and this 'donut bakery' thing now? Stan figured half her problem with people was that she just didn't think all that much about them most of the time. Not really. Just stuff that was happening with herself, and nobody else, most of the time. Just, none of that other kind of stuff. At all.)
(So Stan figured that anything he could set up to have her doing more of that kind of thinking was a win, in his book. Because the more practice she got at thinking about how what she did or didn't do might impact other people later, and what other people might think about what she was doing right then in the moment -- and what she could be doing different, for them specifically... would get her actually stopping and thinking for a start. And maybe lay the groundwork for makin' it a lot easier to get her thinking about 'anybody else' later...)
"Stove's here," Stan pointed out to Miz next in the galley area, along with... "Propane's underneath for those two," 'cause he knew some folks got picky about gas versus electric with their cooking. "Think you saw what Ford did with the solar panels out there for the electric range." He gestured at the other four. Stan really hadn't been able to talk Ford down from that one. They'd only needed one on the Stan O'War II, but… the twins would have less money in the bank than they had themselves, for a pretty good while; propane cost and it could be a little dangerous to wrestle the larger tanks of the stuff around if you weren't careful, but the electricity would be 'free' from the solar panels, as long as there was sun and all the lines and electronics held out.
"Got the cold-and-colder-boxes from the kid, right there," Stan said with a smile next, pointing out the 'freezer' and 'fridge' under the counter that Bill had magicked up for them a few days ago, using a few of those box-crates from below deck. "Even got some stuff in 'em. And the sink's over there," next to the washer that Miz had set up with the whole clean water filter thing, with lines running to and from the thing…
...and also to a backup water-holding tank, just below them on the next deck down, in the hold below. Ford had (somewhat grumpily) announced that the filtration system was good enough that they could simply send the same water through it over and over again almost indefinitely. --The twins would just need to empty out some of the dirt-gunk from the washer's filter-part once in awhile, and add some seawater to the tank every so often, because water evaporating was a thing that happened a bit whenever you did stuff with it, no matter what it was you were doing. (The dryer wasn't dumping any of that washing-water it was drying out of the wet clothes back into the system, for a start…)
Miz tilted her head. "So what're we making for dinner? Or am I just cooking for brother and me while you cook for the humans?"
"You should probably handle the demon-food, while I handle the human-food," Stan told her. "Doesn't mean we can't have some overlap, though. Twins could use some salad, and I know you eat meat just fine," Stan pointed out. "Lemonade to drink, maybe; no sugar for the kid, though," Stan added. Usually, he just handed the kid the lemon juice; he poured a dollop straight into whatever he was drinking -- usually just boiled tap water of some temperature or another. "Gonna have to think about the main meal; I'll handle that."
"Okay, lemonade for the humans, lemon water for brother. Got it." Miz was pulling stuff out of the cold boxes -- handing it up to Stan, who was putting it on the table in the middle of the galley for easy access. "Salad because the teenagers don't eat enough veggies," she said aloud to herself, as if reminding herself of what they were doing. "Hm, kale works great when mixed with nuts… have to chop it super small…" she mused.
Stan nodded as he got his own ingredients together. He'd gone grocery shopping with Ford the day before; they still had some steaks left over in the 'colder box' -- beef, not just fish from one of Miz's earlier hauls. There wasn't enough steak left for everybody as the meal itself, but… hey, he could grill and chop those up for tacos or something, couldn't he? He had the taco shells for it… and grated cheese… and bunch of other stuff, like what Miz had pulled out for the salad...
"Hey," said Stan, as he pulled one of the pans off of the wall and placed it on the nearest propane gas burner. "I'm thinkin' tacos tonight. --Save me some of that tomato and lettuce for fixings, will ya?"
Miz nodded and put aside the requested items before she went back to her own work. She started singing at some point as she worked. "The ship it swayed, heave ho, heave ho~ on the dark and stormy blue~ And I held tight to the captain's might~ as he pulled up his trews~ You haven't slept, heave ho, he said, in many suns and moons~"
Stan glanced over at the odd song, but mentally shrugged to himself after a moment. Mabel liked to sing to herself while working too. (...Heck, so did he.)
Miz was carefully chopping the vegetables into super small pieces on one of the wooden cutting boards Stan had gotten for cheap. (He'd cleaned up and sold the rest for a pretty decent profit yesterday.) "Oh I will sleep when we reach shore~ and pray we get there soon~" She scooped the veggies off into a large bowl and started chopping the next one. "He said hush love, here's your gown~ there's the bed, lantern's down~ But I don't want to go to sleep, in all my dreams I drown~" the cabin was filled with the sound of Miz's soft voice and the chopping board.
Stan blinked at the lyrics. What song even was this? Miz had some pretty weird taste in music. ...Did she even know what the lyrics she'd been singing actually implied?
"The captain howled heave ho, heave ho, and tied me up with sheets~ a storm is brewing in the south~ it's time to go to sleep~ His berth it rocks heave ho, heave ho, the ocean gnashed and moaned~ like Jonah we'll be swallowed whole and spat back teeth and bones~" Stan shook his head and just focused on his own work; yeah, Miz probably wasn't getting all the subtext there, since she wasn't blushing or nothin'. "He said~ hush love, here's your gown, there's the bed, lantern's down~ but I don't want to go to sleep, in all my dreams I drown~"
Stan was glad Ford wasn't down in here with them. (Ford might be able to hear the melody some out there on the roof above them, but not the lyrics -- the portholes and door were closed.) Ford wouldn't get the subtext, either. He'd probably try and overthink why Miz was singing this, try and pick out some (other) hidden meaning, even though Miz wasn't like the kid like that. He'd gotten all worked up over the one she'd sung out on that rooftop a couple days ago. ...And Ford had had that crazy dream just that morning, that had had him grabbing onto the demon-kid because he thought he couldn't breathe(?!). ...Well, the first morning that morning, anyway.
Probably a good thing that Ford couldn't hear them, then. Stan had to admit it wasn't a bad tune; it was just the lyrics that were a little racy. "Captain~ captain~ I will do your chores~ I will warm your cot at night~ and mop your cabin floors~" Miz sang, scooping up everything into the salad bowl and getting out some walnuts. "Scold me~ hold me~ I'll be yours to keep~ the only thing I beg of you~ don't make me go to sleep~"
Finally, Stan spoke up. "I thought you liked sleeping?" and Miz giggled at that and told him, "Yeah, but it's a nice song regardless." She broke the nuts into pieces as well.
Stan nodded. "So what's this song from?" He wasn't gonna ask what it was about, seemed pretty obvious to him.
Miz hummed a little before responding, "The Devil's Carnival. It's a pretty messed up musical, but that's what made it so cool."
...so she did realize that song was kinda out there? ...Huh. Kinda made him wonder if she really did know what it was about, then. She got flustered about some stuff, but... not other stuff, now that he thought about it. (Well, not like he was gonna ask her right now.) Stan shrugged mentally, and asked her instead, "There a reason you like 'messed up' songs?"
"They're more interesting," was the simple reply. Stan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Well it's not just about being disturbing or what not; it sounds cool, and it's not like all the songs I like are dark and twisted." Miz rolled her eyes. "Like, I really enjoy Uptown Funk just 'cause it's so much fun to dance along to."
"Ah huh? So, what, only the 'dark and twisted' songs have music that sounds more interesting?" Stan put out there.
Miz nodded. "They're songs I learned back when I was human, so it's not like this is some kinda demon thing, not that I can tell." She pouted. "Ford overthinks my music choices too much."
That had Stan letting out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, he does." Stan was pretty sure that his brother would find any song he otherwise liked 'objectionable', if he heard either of the demon-kids sing it at some point. Pretty much any song could be sung 'dark' if you wanted to.
Stan set to work tossing the leftover steak in a pan and starting to cook it up on the stove. The good stuff; too bad they didn't have a grill. He could hear Miz humming beside him. "So, any particular reason you went with singin' this song?" he asked.
Miz nodded. "We're on a boat, so I got reminded of this song."
...Well, guess that made sense. "Any other boat songs you know?" Stan put out there.
Miz beamed. And then she proceeded to sing...
Stan chuckled. "Heh, you like sea shantys too?" Stan asked as he spiced up the meat as he cooked it. It was clearly one of those, even if Stan couldn't understand the language.
Miz grinned. "I think they're fun! I don't know too many yet, but I'm open to learning more!" Her tone of voice making it clear she was hoping Stan could teach her a few. She was looking up at him again, that same odd expression of eagerness that made Stan feel a little twisted up inside. Like she was… looking up to him as some sort of...
...hero…
Stan shook his head, clearing away the feeling. Not like she could really mean it. Not like she knew him, anyway. If she did-- "Heh, sure, I know plenty of 'em. If you wanna learn."
Miz practically vibrated in place in excitement. "I doooooo!" she squealed.
Stan chuckled. "Yeah, okay," he said, indulging her. "I know a few fun ones…"
---
Ford frowned at the loud awful singing coming from the cabin, then let out a tired sigh. He couldn't hear the lyrics (thank the Axolotl!), but he'd recognize Stanley's gravelly tones anywhere. (And from what he'd loosely term the 'melody' line, he had half an idea which song it was he was singing, and it was highly inappropriate. As usual.) It was very embarrassing.
Ford tried to comfort himself with the fact that at least no-one should be able to hear his brother except the kids and the demons -- at least, he hoped so. That perception filter of Bill's was still up, wasn't it? It was supposed to be both modifying the light that could be seen and blocking the sound from the boat from carrying, right?
"The heck is that sound?" Lee said as he slowly climbed the rope ladder back to the deck (homework done finally, for better or for worse) and glanced around. "Is the old me dying?" Lee asked next.
Ford sighed again, tiredly. "No. He's… singing." Bad enough he'd had to deal with Stanley's dulcet tones while they were out at sea together, but must his twin insist on being so very obnoxious here, too? (He could at least have picked out a better song--)
Then Ford heard a much higher-pitched and less abrasive voice join his brother in the song. He blinked and jumped straight down off of the roof of the cabin, down onto the deck, strode forward, and yanked open the door to the cabin. "What are you--"
""--Blow HIGH, blow LOW, and so sailed we! Look ahead, look astern, look aweather and alee~"" Ford saw and heard his brother singing together with the smaller demon. ""Look along down the coast of the High Barbareeeee~"" and-- dear lord, Stan was even dancing along to it. Ford groaned. (Because, oh Axolotl, it had gotten even worse. Bad enough when he'd pulled this sort of thing in the Shack with Soos around; at least it hadn't been a full-throated yell practically at the top of Stan's lungs back then, barely more than a hum.) ""There's nought upon the stern, there's nought upon the lee, blow HIGH, blow LOW, and so sailed we~""
"Stan, what are you doing?" Ford rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.
"He's singing," Bill's voice said from above, and Ford twisted his head and then his body in place back towards the doorway, to glare up at the demon who had poked his head down into the doorway from his current vantage point (still) on the roof of the cabin.
Stan let out a laugh and just kept on singing, ignoring Ford for the most part. --Well, except for the wide grin he got as he tried to sing even louder, to try and draw his brother in. He was having fun, is what he was doing, and his brother knew it! (And if Ford got exasperated enough, Stan knew he might even be able to rib him enough to join in, begrudgingly as he always was at first.)
"Oh 'taw broadside to broadside a long time we lay~" Stan sang. Miz piped in with the accompaniment, "Blow HIGH, blow LOW and so sailed we!" Stan danced around the galley area of the small cabin, grooving a bit, kicking and stomping his feet slightly to the merry song, as he waved his spatula around in accompaniment. "Until the prince of luther shot the pirate's masts away~" he and Miz joined together for the next lines, ""Cruising down along the coast of the high Barbaree~""
"Are you quite done?" Ford sighed tiredly. Why was Stanley always like this?
"Blow HIGH, blow LOW and so-sailed… mm" Ford heard echoed at his back, and he turned to see Lee blush a little and then trail off at the disbelieving look that Ford gave him.
"Aw, c'mon Ford," Stan said, coming to a slow stop in his grooving at the water Ford was basically throwing on the younger him there, with all of his glaring. "Ain't nothing wrong with--"
"'There isn't anything wrong with'--" Ford corrected his brother, glancing over his shoulder at him. "Grammar, Stanley." He ignored the look he got from his brother for that one. ...And the 'HA!' from Bill. (They both knew what he meant, and it wasn't an inappropriate time for it!)
"Don't crush his musical spirit!" Miz put out there. "That's a BAD thing to do to someone!"
"I don't got-- uh, 'have' a…" Lee sort of hunched his shoulders slightly, as he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged at them all, looking away. "Can I, uh, help with the food?" Lee asked next, trying for the more direct route, and brightening a little as he realized that maybe this was something that the old him might actually let him do, to help out some, for once!
Miz looked down and handed Lee the bowl with the chopped lettuce and tomatoes. "Well, I dunno if you put the veggies into a taco first or last, but you can help set up said tacos?"
Stan took in the scene at a glance, and shrugged to himself. Usually, it was every man for himself, adding as much as they wanted of whatever, but...
"Yeah, kid," Stan said, as he finished cooking up the first of the steaks, speared it, and moved it over onto a plate. "C'mere and carve this up into pieces, then shove that stuff into the shells first, yeah? --Miz, the meat goes in first, yeah?" Stan told her next. Miz nodded, accepting this little nugget of wisdom. She didn't really have much experience with Tacos and didn't know how they worked aside from a basic knowledge of 'stick meat, veggies and cheese into it'.
"Stan, you shouldn't have her helping to cook," Ford said warningly, to which Stan replied breezily, "Ford, just have the kid check it over however he's doin' it for his own stuff, and tell you what's what. Since you still know when he's lying." Seriously, why his brother didn't take more advantage of that… Stan didn't know. Hell, the kids had picked up on that pretty damn quick, and they couldn't even always tell when the kid was lying. ...Yet. (...Not that the kid had tried lyin' to them much, which was… y'know, a whole 'nother thing.)
Miz pouted. "I just chopped veggies and nuts. How the heck am I supposed to mess that up?" Just because she didn't know how 'real, proper' cooking worked didn't mean that her billions of years self teaching herself through experiments and failures meant nothing!
"--That isn't the problem, and you know it!" Ford snapped out at her abruptly, which had Lee flinching, and Bill...
...pushing himself forward, and then pulling himself down, in a half-somersault, to land feet-first in the doorway, and then turn to lean up against the side of the doorway instead. (...at Lee's back, which the younger twin wasn't so sure how to feel about...)
"...I cook for my friends and children all the time… and they're fine…" Miz pulled at the bottom of her dress.
"Demons could be different in her dimension," Bill put out there, crossing his arms casually as he leaned up against the doorway. "I haven't seen her try anything yet. Overt or otherwise."
Stan frowned as he glanced between Ford and the kid. "...There something here I need to worry about?" Stan asked, because--
"Yes!" said Ford, at the same time as he got a "Maybe," from the kid.
--okay, great. So what was he missing this time?
Lee and Sixer (who'd also come up to the deck at some point, and was standing just outside the open doorway now) looked back and forth between the older thems and the demons.
...Was there something wrong? Lee didn't realize he'd said that out loud until Stan looked over as him and sighed. "My brother gets a little paranoid--"
"--It isn't paranoia; it's a justifiable concern!" Ford insisted, feeling irritated at his brother not taking him seriously. --Again!! "You can't trust demons. The worst of the worst of them will pretend to be nice, and then bite your head off for fun! --Quite literally!" he stressed to them all.
"I don't eat heads. They're gross!" Miz protested. That didn't really make Ford any less angry or fearful. He'd seen what happened when--!
Bill straightened away from the doorframe, then walked past that Stanford and over to his sister, to place a hand on her head. "I told you, he's not going to eat it, sis. I won't eat food from animals here; he won't eat food from demons anywhere. Understand?" They both had reasons for it.
Miz sighed. "Yeah, but I… I don't want to hurt anyone here…" She looked down at the prepared ingredients. "Well, I only made the salad, so you can just avoid that if you hate me so much…"
"S' why I told you to work on that," Stan said good-naturedly, with a lopsided smile. "Ford don't hate you," Stan corrected her. If he did, he'd have been trying to shoot her straight-out; minimum. "He does hate his leafy-greens, though," Stan told her with a smile. "He'll do the tacos; no salad."
Miz puffed out her cheeks. "I don't like veggies but I still eat them."
"Oh, he'll do 'veggies'," Stan told her next (while ignoring his brother's warning "Stan…"). "He just don't like stuff like lettuce. Says it's too much like eating leaves." (Ford shot him a glare.) "But then he likes puttin' basil on stuff." Stan's grin got a little wider. (The glare got worse.)
Miz thought about it. "Well, lettuce is kinda boring on it's own. But I wouldn't say it's like a leaf. Leaves are more… fiber-y." She sat back down on the ground to finish up the salads (having moved some of her stuff to the floor so she could spread them out in separate bowls, expecting the table to run out of space as Stan and Lee worked on the tacos). She looked through what she had, shaking a few herbs and spices onto them. --No vinegar, no salt or sugars, or her brother wouldn't eat it. So she had to flavor it some other way.
"Spices and herbs are different!" Ford complained to his brother, as Miz continued on with what she was doing to the salad, and… From his change in tone of voice, Lee figured that it was maybe safe enough for him to sidle his way over in-between the table and all the stuff along the wall now -- boy, was it cramped in here! Belowdecks was way easier! -- and grab a knife and fork to start cutting up the cooked meat like that old-man him had wanted him to...
(Meanwhile, Sixer scooted along the opposite wall, headed for the back bunks, trying to stay out of the way of everything and everyone in general. He had a few more things he wanted to write down…)
"Oh, sure," said Stan. "Says the guy who eats planets on accident."
"--That was one time!" Ford snapped back, looking more than a little frustrated (while trying terribly hard not to feel one bit embarrassed, because if he did--).
"Yeah?" Stan said almost challengingly. "How much grass did you accidentally eat on that thing, anyway?"
Miz blinked. "You ate a planet too?" She made a face. "It's so unpleasant!"
Ford twisted his head over to stare at her, a little horrified.
"Oh, little sis," Bill grinned -- because that little gem had just gotten opened up for storytelling, what with both Stanley and that Stanford talking about it! "Fordsie here stumbled his way into a little Cthulhu-banquet this one time," Bill told her, sitting down next to her on the floor and patting her on the head, with something more of a stroking movement this time. "I told him to stick to the side-bars at that little spiral-arm-wide shindig, and what does he go and do?"
"Bill." The dream demon was grinning widely, and Ford wanted to shoot him so badly right now. His fists were clenched at his sides...
"...let me guess, he did the opposite of what you said and went straight to the main tables." Miz could see where this was going. Really, did Ford do that out of sheer pettiness or did he really think Bill was--
"--He did the opposite!" Bill enthused out, spreading his hands out to the sides, then crossing his arms and leaning back against the floor-level shelves that sat below the 'table'-area behind him. "Went straight for the 'sandwich' buffet instead," Bill told her with a grin. "Got himself a nice 'sandy' one, too!"
Then Bill leaned in slightly and told her, in a not-quite-quiet-enough to be conspiratorial tone, "Luckily, all the people on THAT one were already long dead, or WOO BOY, his 'morals' sure would have taken a HIT! --THREE-HUNDRED-MILLION YEARS since the last sapient life kicked the bucket on that one, AND COUNTING!" Bill told her. "Hit their 'atomic age' with a BANG!" he added, then said almost philosophically, "Sixer was taking iodine pills for a week afterwards. --Really, Sixer," Bill ended on an almost chiding tone. "That stuff does next to NOTHING for you, when it's the HEAVY-METAL POISONING you really should have been WORRIED about, instead! All that iron..." Bill trailed off, shaking his head, before breaking out into a wide grin again.
Lee was staring at Ford, a little horrified, but also a little grossed out. Wait, and Miz said she'd eaten a planet, too?
"And you know what the worst part is?" Bill added, raising his voice and talking to all and sundry now. "--He didn't even enjoy it!" Bill told them all in scandalous tone. "Aged like a fine wine, with nary a bone or even a fossil remaining, and he not only GULPS IT DOWN in three bites, he practically LOSES it not three minutes later, when somebody ASKS him about how it tasted, and his translator--"
Ford didn't even try to get Bill's attention with words that time, to try and stop him (always a futile endeavor) or otherwise interrupt him (moderately more likely, for short periods of time, with consequences always attached). He just stomped his way over, dropped down into a crouch next to the dream demon, and slapped one of his hands over Bill's mouth, fuming. (...while Stan looked back over his shoulder at him from where he was in front of the stove and blandly wondered why his brother hadn't just said 'stop' to the kid, instead.)
Miz sighed in relief at learning the planet was already dead. "Well, I didn't really enjoy eating a planet either, was a stressful experience for me actually, though at least Ford didn't kill anyone from eating the planet, so that's good." Not like she'd been forced to do. Heck, that had been the POINT. "And he didn't explode or anything." ...like she'd done. Huh. Well, she didn't really want to think about this anymore…
...but then she paused as she remembered something. "Actually… now that I think about it, I found some planets once, which didn't have life in them, and they sorta broke apart into slices when I messed with them… and then I put them back together like a sandwich…"
"With or without trimming off the crust?" was Sixer's contribution to the discussion from the bunk area, and Ford turned his head to stare over at him in pure disbelief. (Because the brazenness and utter lack of empathy that must exist in the asker of said question -- given the subject matter of the question posed, and the tone and method in which it was asked -- was simply… obscene.)
"I left the crust, was kinda curious what would happen. Funny story, the elements, substances and minerals from the different layers mixed together and life formed on the planet. It was really cool to watch them grow and evolve!" Miz grinned. "I kept that planet protected for a few billion years, making sure other species didn't try to invade it, but then the inhabitants wanted to explore space so I left them alone to do that… and…" Miz's smile faded. "They got attacked and enslaved by another species that sent in ships to mine the planet for all its resources…"
"You didn't smite the attackers for doing that?" Bill asked curiously, after having reached up and pulled Ford's hand down and away from his mouth in order to speak. "Or give your own a few pointers on 'self-defense'?" (And at the last, Ford looked down at Bill, his eyes going a little wide...)
Miz sighed, looking melancholy. "I wanted to. I asked them if they wanted me to help. But they said that they could do it themselves, that they didn't need me anymore…"
"Oh. Well," said Bill, suddenly sounding a lot cooler. "THAT was their problem then." They'd decided they didn't want to be HERS anymore? --Then they'd gotten what they DESERVED. ...The idiots. CLEARLY, they HADN'T 'deserved' HER!
"--That doesn't mean they deserved to die, Bill!" Ford ground out at the demon angrily, pulling his hand away from him, because he knew what sorts of events Bill was thinking of and about just then. There were stories throughout the multiverse, about what would happen to you if you 'double-crossed' Bill in any way, let alone failed to deliver...
After all, telling Bill Cipher that 'you didn't need him anymore' to him was, to Bill, the equivalent of saying that you didn't have anything that you wanted anymore, for him to be able to make a Deal with you over. (Thus, making you useless to him.) ...Up to, and including, wanting 'to continue to live' or 'to stay alive', or to keep anything of what you currently had going for you.
Because in Bill Cipher's mind, 'not wanting anything' translated to 'being dead already' -- which had been a hard-learned lesson for Ford. ...Even more so when the way he'd learned this was through how Bill had decided to torture him with it, by applying it to every single solitary person in existence other than himself, and making him watch as he--
(Ford had seen quite a few people die, from 'not wanting anything' from Bill. Far, far too many. ...And those that wanted everything from Bill--)
Miz pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them. "Why won't anyone ever accept my help when I ask? They're fine with living under my protection so long as they don't know I'm giving it to them. But the second that they know it's me they all want nothing to do with my help." She smiled bitterly, "But they're perfectly fine with accepting my help when I pretend to be something else. They just don't like me." She pressed her face against her legs.
Stan winced. The heck had been happenin' in her dimension? Were triangles really considered that scary to look at over there? Somethin' else had to be goin' on… right? (...or was it kind of like the kid with everybody else and their dog, just refusing to…)
"...Still don't see how we're gettin' from 'I don't want to eat any planets' to 'I won't eat any demon food' here," Stan told the demon-kids both. "Not like your sister's making planets to eat, there. Just salad. Outta human-food. So."
Bill rolled his eyes. "That Stanford--"
"I am not being picky!" Ford hissed. "I have very good reasons for not trusting--"
"--has his reasons, too," the kid continued, giving Ford a long, almost unreadable look, as Ford snapped his mouth shut and stared.
"Yeah, okay," said Stan. "You've both got reasons. Mind sharing them with the rest of us?" Stan said, to which Ford clenched his jaw and otherwise remained silent, not wanting to look at him.
"...You'd have to override that Stanford on talking about other dimensions, Stanley," the kid told him, still giving Ford a long look. But then the kid turned to him. "They aren't 'frivolous'. You shouldn't take food from other demons. I haven't seen Miz do anything… objectionable," the kid put out there, glancing back at Ford again. "But other demons in this dimensional set…" The kid trailed off.
"Is this something I gotta worry about," Stan repeated.
"No," said the kid. "You don't. You're mine," the triangle demon told him. "--So are Pine Tree and Shooting Star. And that Stanford."
"Then why's he so worried about it," Stan deadpanned. "Tell me." (Stan saw Ford tense out of the corner of his eye.) "Keep it general," he told the kid. "No specifics."
The kid eyed Ford a bit. "He's seen other demons… do things," the kid said slowly and... about as generally as Stan had ever heard him talk. Then he looked back to Stan. "And he wasn't in the loop as much before."
"In the loop," Stan said, frowning. "Meaning…" what? That he was too far away from the rest of them?
The kid looked frustrated. "In the loop is in the loop! --In the circuit. …In the Zodiac?" the kid tried. "--He's more connected to the rest of you now."
"So, taking food from demons wouldn't cause him problems anymore," Stan tried.
"Yes," said the kid. "Taking food from other demons won't cause him problems anymore." Stan let out a sigh. But before he could relax, the kid said next, "You still shouldn't eat it."
"Why not," Stan said, giving the kid a long look. "No runaround this time, just tell me, damnit." Because, really, he was getting tired of this--
"Because they could have done something to it."
Stan stared at the kid, and he realized after a moment how very pissed off the kid looked right now.
...Because that was the real, full reason the kid hadn't wanted to tell any of them before what he would or wouldn't eat. Not just because somebody might try to add something he didn't want to eat to what he was eating -- it was because, to the kid's mind, anybody who knew what he would eat could do absolutely anything to it before he sat down and ate it, while he wasn't looking.
And knowing at least some of how the kid's messed-up thought processes worked, the kid probably thought that he was giving Ford ideas for how to mess with him, with what he'd just said, because Stan had told him to tell him straight-out while Ford was standing right there listening...
"Yeah, well, here's a new 'house rule' for ya -- in case, y'know, it wasn't clear enough already," Stan ground out, just putting it out there. "Anybody who messes with anybody else's food, trying to mess with them? That gets counted as a flat-out attack," Stan said. "Understand?" He sent a glare first the kid's, then Ford's way.
...Both of them were staring at him, blinking.
"What," said Stan. "Any of you got a problem with that?" He eyed the both of them (and the other three in the cabin, for good measure).
Miz huffed. "Food is IMPORTANT! I don't mess with it!" She mumbled about stupid wasabi pranks and how she still hadn't forgiven someone she'd apparently known who'd done that to her. "...told me it was green tea ice cream…"
"...I don't have a problem with that," the kid said slowly to Stan. "I have the OPPOSITE of a problem with that." (He glanced over at his sister at her muttered comment though, frowning slightly. --Did he need to GET REVENGE for her? ...Or help her to get that revenge for herself?)
"No, Stan," Ford said quietly. "I don't have a problem with that."
"Good," said Stan (after he sent two glares the younger twins' ways, and got confirmations out of them both, too). "Right; good talk. --Ford, you don't gotta eat anything you don't want to, for any reason; kid, same goes for you, too, in case that wasn't clear. ...Miz, you keep on eating whatever you want," Stan deadpanned. "Now. All of you get over here and eat your tacos and stuff." And with that said, Stan gestured to the put-together tacos that Lee was making. "Salad was cut up and tossed together by Miz; kid, check that and give us a reading on it for Ford. Me and Lee did the tacos; that includes cutting up the meat fixings and the cheese," Stan added for good measure. "Miz washed up the lettuce and tomatoes stuff when she was pulling stuff out for the salad, and cut it up, but nothin' else, and… kid?"
The kid finished whatever thing he was checking by messing around with the whatever at his wrist, as he and Miz both stood up, with Miz putting the very large salad bowl on the table. "It's fine. Good enough for me to eat; I plan on eating most of the salad, no tacos," the kid told them. "The drink is fine, as well. I won't drink the basil lemonade; the flavored water is mine."
Stan noted the kid's own 'mine' claims with a nod (which the kid usually did for his food and stuff when Ford wasn't in the room but the niblings were these days, so saying it outright right now was… kinda new, but also not). Ford slowly made his way over, still staring at Stan and glancing over at Bill and Miz a few times.
"Sit down and eat," Stan told Ford, handing over a plate with three tacos on it to him -- practically shoving the edge of the plate into his chest, really. (It was only meat and cheese and the shells, made up himself just then with the last meat he'd just grilled, so he could say that he was the only one who had touched the stuff, if his brother wanted to be really paranoid about everything and asked.) Ford blinked down at it as he took it. "Miz made both of the drinks, so if you want something else, you'll need to grab water from the sink," Stan told his brother, next. (...And Ford promptly set down his plate, picked up two glasses and turned around, heading for the sink. Right.)
"Basil lemonade? Basil water?" Lee asked as he looked at the pitcher of lemonade with some distinctive green leaves floating in it, which was sitting next to another pitcher with slightly more odd-colored water, a few visible lemon slices and more of the basil leaves in it.
Miz nodded. "I made it once a really long time ago with a human friend. It was good." She scooped out some of the salad to put into serving plates for the others before handing the rest of the bowl to Bill. "The only flavoring is some lemon juice, peppers and a bit of basil," she told him. "I got basil at the store and wanted to use 'em for stuff. Gonna try out some other spices later."
"--The difference between them is that the 'lemonade' has sugar added to it, too!" Bill added, for completeness, without prompting. "THAT one." He pointed.
"Brother doesn't like added sugars. Natural glucose from the fruits are fine, but the actual sugar stuff is a no-no for him." Miz explained to the younger twins.
Bill frowned. (He didn't like information being wrong; Liam had always corrected him when he was wrong; he was Miz's big brother now. All of these things were connected in his mind, which led to…)
"I prefer sour and bitter," Bill noted almost absently, as he sat down with a fork for his salad bowl. "But I CAN eat sweet and salty if I HAVE to." He pulled a slight face, though.
"I will try to use more sour stuff for you in the future. Maybe try grilling some bitter melon, you might like that." Miz noted. Bill looked up and blinked at her. "Even if I can't eat melons, you might like them." She smiled. Stan glanced over. She was already doing the 'thinking of what others might like' thing. Good.
"This is fine," Bill said, pointing down that salad with his fork. He didn't see any reason not to eat it; the salad was as 'clean' as human food ever got, it wasn't overly saturated with sweet or salty things, and everything in it came from fruits and vegetables that didn't have any soul-bits stuck to them. "Mine!" He shoved his fork into the salad, retrieved some of it, and took a bite.
...HMMMMMMMM. The lemon juice made it sour, the pepper seasoning was nice and spicy (he LIKED pepper!), and the kale and the chopped nuts were both mildly bitter.
Bill smiled a little as he chewed.
(Stan noted this. First time he'd seen the kid smile while eating anything.)
Miz was wiggling proudly when she saw that Bill was enjoying her cooking.
"--Also-mine!" Bill said enthusiastically, before taking a sip out of his own glass.
"Stan…" Ford said, as Stan picked up his first taco.
"Ford, all the dragon-lady did was cut the lettuce and tomato stuff," Stan told him, as Ford plunked donw a glass of water in front of him. "She didn't make it up outta sand; this is the stuff we got from the store. He really wasn't seeing the problem, here. "Kid even said it was fine," Stan told his brother, then said half tongue-in-cheek next, "Not like she 'claimed' any of the fixings or nothin' for herself."
And Stan saw Ford just… pause.
And he watched Ford begin to relax.
Stan eyed this, and then took a bite of his taco. His brother wasn't even looking at him, now, let alone looking like he was going to pitch a fit at him eating something that had stuff in it that the dragon-lady had touched.
It left Stan wondering, as he finished off his taco in another two bites, exactly how much of all the kid's 'mine'ing was actually some kind of a thing. Stan noted that Miz was copying her brother now, picking up a glass of lemonade and saying, "This one is mine."
"Yes!" the kid said to her. "That one is yours now. --Good job!" Stan looked up and saw the kid smiling at her for it, and still continuing to smile while he was eating and drinking that stuff his sister had made for him. Huh. Stan wiped off his hands to take a drink of his own water for a minute, thinking.
"Hey, Miz," Stan said, with a gesture at the salad as he put down his own water glass. "What all'd you put in there, anyway?" Stan asked Miz, as he picked up his next taco. "For the recipe?"
That had Miz happily chattering away at him a bit, as Bill munched on his salad, and the rest of them dug into their own food. (The kids, Stan noted, stayed away from the salad, but while Lee went in for water too, Sixer poured himself a glass of the lemonade and picked up one of those small side plates of the salad. …Well, at least Ford didn't lose his shit over it, even if he did give his younger self a long dark look for it.)
"...nuts go really well with salads as a source of non-meat protein, they crunch nicely and with the kale chopped up like so, they mix together really well! And the added lemon juice helps to bind everything together because of the surface tension of the water content inside it, which makes it moist and that's good because the walnuts are pretty dry on their own and…" Miz babbled on. Stan nodded and gave her a smile, before taking another bite out of his next taco. She really seemed like a normal kid sometimes, so long as she was busy with food-related stuff like this.
...Stan also realized that Miz must have been thinking a lot about ways to make food that would still taste good even with Bill's limitations. (Hell, had she gone with lemons in the salad because Bill hadn't really liked the sweet strawberries from the vegetable dish he'd eaten last time?) She didn't need to do that -- the kid would eat crackers and burnt toast without doing more than grumbling out loud a little bit about it -- but Miz had made an effort to find ways to make Bill's food something he thought was 'good', so that he would enjoy eating it.
...And that was really a good idea. Stan had been trying to figure out something the kid might actually like to eat for awhile now, but with the kid not talking about his food 'preferences' before, he hadn't exactly gotten anywhere. Miz was really speeding up the process now, though; Stan didn't just have a list of 'will's and 'won't's now -- the dragon lady was working up actual recipes. Stan made some mental notes on this stuff as she talked, because if he could make sure he had the right fixings in the house for this stuff, and made more of it, he bet he could get the kid to actually eat more. Because that was still a problem; the kid wasn't practically skin and bones anymore, but he was still pretty damn far underweight for his height and build -- even for a 'human-ish female', or whatever.
Getting to eat enough would solve a whole host of problems with the kid, Stan was pretty sure. --Chief among them being, the worst sniping sessions between Ford and the kid tended to happen at or just before mealtimes, when the kid hadn't had anything (or enough) to eat yet. Kid just didn't think all that clearly when he was hungry -- which he'd only gotten the kid to actually admit to, not too long ago. But if Stan could get the kid eating more, then he'd have more food in his system; it'd tide him over longer, and probably end up making mealtimes that much smoother. (Because as much as Stan didn't like to admit it, the kid was the one who tended to grind those arguments to a halt more easily, not Ford, just by not snapping back at Ford directly for all of it, and redirecting by 'talking back' to Stan instead. At least, the kid did that when Ford tried starting something with him verbally, with what was probably the nerdbot equivalent of trash-talk. When it was the kid starting it, though--)
Not for the first time, Stan acknowledged that even with some of the problems that arose with the dragon-lady being here, she was helping out with the kid. She was good for the kid. And the fact that she was legitimately trying to learn to be good from Stan even if she was crap at following up on it, hurting his brother without even trying-- was a thing that Stan intended to take full advantage of, again and still.
Now, if only he could get her and Ford to stop taking swipes at each other every other minute…
Stan mentally sighed. The two of 'em just couldn't seem to get along; they were even worse than Ford and the kid, and that was sayin' something.
Because Ford would say something that happened to tick Miz off for some reason or another and then she'd snipe at him -- or vice-versa, with Miz being the one to say something that set Ford off -- and then Stan would have to get between them before things escalated even further, every time. Worse, Ford seemed to have his reasons for snapping at her, even if he didn't want to talk about them half the time. But most of the time, Miz seemed to be just being petty, or caught up in some crazy-bad thing that was completely messed up, and didn't want to stop, so she didn't--
...And Stan couldn't lean on the kid for backup for any of this, because the kid wasn't exactly any better than Stan himself was right now at trying to get Miz to stop. The kid had just made stuff worse at the kitchen table, the first time Stan had seen the kid actually try to… 'enlighten her' a couple nights ago on stuff to do with Ford… which was maybe half the problem he'd had there, not getting anywhere with her on that because she wasn't all that human anymore... and the kid hadn't exactly gotten all that much better at stopping her when she needed to be stopped, any time since. (Not that the kid knew when he should stop either, half the time.) So Stan couldn't exactly 'enlist' the kid's help to magically solve this one, either. ...It was a problem.
...Well, at least his brother wasn't trying to haul off and shoot the 'man-eating' dragon-lady, though. That wouldn't end well.
They all ate quietly for a bit as Miz finished explaining the salad and began eating her own taco and some of the salad, making a slight face at the peppers but wanting to learn to get over her aversion to it… heck, maybe some sweet lemonade would help…? Ahh~ much better. Stupid spicy peppers!
Wanting to fill the silence, Sixer spoke up. "So…" He chewed on his taco. "What's up with Mr. Harman?"
Ford stiffened. Stan sighed. Miz looked confused and let her gaze drift off to Flicker and see what this was about. Bill continued eating.
"Bill… 'inspired' him a little bit," Stan said, explaining it as best as he could, from what he now knew. "Some of the stuff the kid knows is... kind of 'addictive' for smart people sometimes, when he tells it to 'em. Kinda like catnip, for nerds?"
"Catnip isn't addictive, or habit-forming in any way," Ford said lowly, giving Stan a dark look.
"Fine," said Stan, brushing off the purposefully bad analogy -- because hey, if his brother really wanted him to get all accurate and junk on this stuff... "More like nicotine, then. Bad for you, poisonous in large doses, builds up over time so you need more and more of it to get that quick rush, you don't ever want to stop, it's hard to break the habit once you've got it, and you still think you need it even after you definitely know that you don't anymore. ...Involves a lot of smoke getting blown places, too," Stan added, not looking over at his brother as he talked, choosing to take another bite of his taco instead. He chewed, swallowed, then said, "The kid didn't think that what he was doin' was a problem, before. I've told him otherwise, now. So now he knows he needs to not go off doing it," even if the demon didn't understand yet why he shouldn't do it, "Not to people like Mr. Harman," or to Ford.
"Why is he… addictive to our physics teacher?" Sixer asked next.
Stan shrugged at Sixer at that, not letting on to how angry the whole thing had made and was still making him. "Has to do with giving people too much of what they think they want," Stan told him, because as far as he could tell…? That had been it. "The kid's happy to keep on giving it to them, as long as they keep asking him for it. And then they do some kinda brainiac-O.D. on it; they think they're 'just' thinking, and they just don't know when to stop. --And the kid sure ain't gonna stop for them, because he thinks they're the ones who are supposed to be the one to say 'when'. Except, they go off and don't. And some of that 'don't' is not doin' things like eatin' and sleeping, which you kinda need to do to keep on doing anything, without killing yourself. So."
Sixer frowned thoughtfully, as he tried to think that one over, with the limited (and purposefully general) information Stan had just given him. ...And Ford was real quiet over at his end of the table. (Yeah, well, if he hadn't wanted him to talk about it, then Ford should've just let him stick to the 'catnip' thing.)
Miz blinked a few times. "...still seems like it would be difficult to tell one way or another if it was bad or not until we get to that point…" she mused. "How would I tell if someone was just really excited to learn something versus if they were going to obsess over it? I don't want to hurt anyone…" Luckily, Ms. Talia seemed fine now, after having some time to think about it.
Stan glanced over at her. "That an actual question?" he asked her. She nodded. (...Hell, the kid looked almost interested, too.) Stan let out a sigh.
"...You want to take this one, Ford?" Stan tried, looking over at his brother.
"I'd rather not," Ford said quietly, looking down at his water, before lifting it up and drinking it down like he wished he was chugging something a hell of a lot stronger.
...Right. Okay. Sure. Give the guy with the wheel the wheel back instead of the 'recovering addict', why not. (...Then again, his brother skipped meals every time he thought he could get away with it, and thought food pills were better than sliced bread. Maybe Stan should be taking point on this one.) "Somebody talks with you for more than an hour, or skips a food break or a water break, or bathroom break," Stan told her, "Then you know there's somethin' else going on. --You try tellin' 'em you want to stop for a bit and get some food, and they look jittery or wanna protest? Even if you tell 'em after that that you can pick up the conversation after you're both sitting down someplace with some food? You've definitely got a problem," Stan told her. "People need breaks for that stuff."
Miz blinked. "Like when we're doing an anime marathon and get so invested that we forget the time?" she asked carefully. "Or only if someone remembers the time and asks for a break but someone else doesn't want to?"
"Yeah," said Stan. "Like TV marathons. You get somebody who has to see it live, not even okay with recording it and picking up watching the recording right after, later? --That's a little messed up; kinda too much," he told her. "And even if they seem okay with whatever, you can get 'em to stop and eat and take breaks? If you still end up going for more than five hours with 'em, or it starts gettin' to be night, and they don't want to go to sleep… it's the same thing," Stan told her. "They were just holdin' out on ya for a little bit. Those are the smarter ones who know how not to drop on their feet, but think they can get away with no-sleep," he warned her. (Y'know, like his brother.) "That don't work out for 'em either. Don't let 'em try to get away with it."
Miz nodded, seeming to get it. "So it's only a problem if they neglect their own health in pursuit of the thing they want to do…" She frowned. "Like staying up to 3 AM working on a school assignment? Or is that just a normal type of unhealthy forced on students from the pressures inherent in the education system?"
"...Normal type of screwed-up for nerd-bots, maybe," Stan pointed out. "The rest of us like our sleep." He'd never had that problem, even if his brother always had. He was pretty sure Dipper had that problem, too. Mabel was pretty good about making sure she got enough sleep, even if she was working on something, because she knew -- like he did -- that just trying to keep going and going on and on just didn't work. It took you twice as long to get half as much done, and eventually you just weren't getting anywhere anymore. ...And he'd figured all this stuff out pretty early on, trying to get that portal working. After awhile, he'd been forced to realize, and then admit, that he'd had to pace himself, or he was never gonna get anywhere, at all, ever.
"But yeah," Stan told her, leaning back in his chair, "They neglect their health? They're definitely goin' too far, too hard. They're gonna crash." Neglecting work and family or anything else was a whole 'nother issue that Stan wasn't gonna get into just then. Mostly because, if they weren't so obsessed with junk that they were just too tired and hungry to think straight, then they could just go off and make that decision for themselves, Stan figured. (Their teach, on the other hand, hadn't been thinking that clearly -- which was why he'd had problems there, Stan also figured.)
Miz nodded again, seemingly understanding what to look out for now. "I'm gonna have to check on Kryptos when I get home, then. He's been pulling some all-nighters working on some kinda Death Ray…"
"Ugh," went Bill. "Kryptos… I don't like that guy," he muttered. (Stan frowned.)
"He's not that bad, at least mine isn't. I'm not sure what yours is like." Miz tilted her head. "Mine's really cute. Always invites me out to go to restaurants or amusement parks with him. Dunno why he keeps insisting that it should just be an 'us' thing whenever I try to invite my other friends to come with us though…"
Everyone stared at her. Lee finally spoke up, "Er… maybe he wanted alone time with you?"
Miz blinked. "But we do have alone time? I hang out with all my Friends. Both by themselves and with my other friends?" She looked a little confused.
"Sounds a little suffocating to me," was Sixer's blase contribution to this, looking down at his notebook as he wrote a few more things down. Trying to steal all her time for himself, not wanting to let her have some space for herself… (and he didn't notice at all, as Ford frowned over at him severely while also covering an internal wince.)
Miz twitched and frowned at him. "What's wrong with hanging out with my friends? We live together and we enjoy each other's company." She huffed. "And I don't mind being with them if they want me. I'm just not sure why Kryptos wanted it to be just us two. It's more fun with more people, right?"
Bill looked askance at her. "...You said he's building a Death Ray?" Bill asked, putting his fork down and paying a bit more attention at this point.
"Yeah. He said it was a project for his mechanic's class. Something about wanting to find a way to generate a lot of energy for precise attacks from far away…"
"Oh, WELL." Bill took a sip of his 'flavored' water, then said, as easy as you please, "He's probably trying to kill you then."
"...That is not what I got out of that," Lee muttered to himself, looking between them.
Miz blinked. "Wha? Kryptos?" She started laughing, so hard she rolled out of her seat, down onto the ground, and kicking her legs in the air. "Pfffth! Ahahahaha! Kryptos? Killing ME? That's RIDICULOUS!"
"Never said I thought he might be able to pull it off, not if he's anything like my friend," Bill said, putting both elbows down on the table and propping his chin up on his hands. "But--"
"Ahahaha! That-" Miz cackled. "That's HILARIOUS! No way. Ahahaha!"
"Yes," Bill said simply. "It IS hilarious." Not funny at all. --CLEARLY, he was going to have to kill this individual for her.
Miz gasped for breath and rolled onto her side. "Nah. Even if Kryptos wanted to kill anyone, it wouldn't be ME he was after. He's my friend." She giggled.
"He wants to 'spend time with you'," Bill ticked off, to start with. "He wants to set up a place and time that he knows where you will be. --He doesn't like it when there are more people there, who might get in the way of the long-range, high precision energy beam weaponry that he is trying to point at you from a great distance. It ruins his tracking," Bill said, "--and ruins his alibi, if there are more people around. He won't be able to maneuver you into position as easily, or slip away and handle the gun disposal afterwards without one of your OTHER more-loyal friends potentially following him after, and then catching on."
Lee rubbed the back of his neck, looking between the two demons. "Um… it sounds more like that guy's trying to date you to me," Lee pointed out. "...Unless there are really different rules for dating demons or something," Lee put out there next, as it slowly occurred to him that maybe trying to kill each other could be a demon thing? (The dragon-lady did eat people sometimes, she'd said. Was that kinda stuff considered romantic for demons? --Sixer had better stop flirting with her, if that was true!)
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. These two, he swore...
Miz raised an eyebrow. "Kryptos… dating me?" Her eyes seemed to flicker before she snorted. "That's even less likely. We're just friends." She turned to her brother and pouted. "And there's no way he'd be planning to kill me. We're friends. And he loves me. He told me so." She grinned. "And I love him too! Because he's my friend!"
Bill frowned. Then let out a half-laugh, half-snort. "LOVE? --'Love' is a sick raw biological urge to reproduce trying to dress up in a suit and charm its way through the opera! --You're letting someone who TELLS you that they 'love' you GET AWAY WITH trying to TIE YOU DOWN IN ONE LOCATION AND SHOOT YOU INTO THE GRAVE!" Bill told her, tossing his hands up into the air in frustration. "YOU and your SQUIRMY FEELINGS!" Bill huffed out, almost in offense. WHY did his sister have NO sense of SELF-PRESERVATION?!?
Lee was muttering to himself, "Feel bad for that guy, if the girl he likes is THIS oblivious…" Not to mention the crazy demon brother who wanted to kill him, because he was practically as oblivious as his sister was. --Heck, the guy had straight up told Miz he loved her, and she still hadn't gotten the point!
Miz scoffed. "There's different kinds of love. Not just the sexual need to reproduce." She frowned. "I doubt we're compatible anyway, our species don't even have similar genitalia… and even beyond that, there's no way he'd like me in that way. We're just friends." She shook her head. "And I love you as my brother. That's not from any need to reproduce."
Bill blinked and his arms dropped slightly.
"Oh." Bill looked a lot calmer all of a sudden, as he slowly began to lower his arms back to his sides. "You don't mean eros-love, or storge-'love'. You mean agape-philia-love. --That's different," Bill said. "That's fine." (...And for some reason, Ford was looking like he'd just been hit over the head with a cinderblock at hearing that, now; Stan was definitely gonna have to get a translation from him later, from whatever weird language that was from.) Then Bill frowned. "--Still shouldn't be taking advantage of your feelings for him to try and kill you, though," Bill said, then brightened. "You should get your OTHER friends to keep an EYE on him for you!" Bill told her. "They're trustworthy and not at all acting-suspicious, yes?" Getting 'friends' who weren't yet compromised to rat out the ones who were was a viable strategy; Bill had done THAT before with his own Henchmaniacs many-a-time.
Miz rolled her eyes, quite sure that Bill was being paranoid. "Alright, I'll ask Pyronica and the others to watch him in case he really is trying to kill me. I still doubt it though. He's too much or a dork to be able to hide murderous intent from me," to which Bill replied promptly, "YES! Do THAT!" (Bill looked skeptical at this, not wanting to trust that someone who he thought might be trying to openly kill his sister WASN'T trying to do so, not without vetting them PERSONALLY himself… but he tried to content himself with the fact that his little sister was listening to him, and would be taking at least some precautions. ...and wasn't going home just yet, so he could help her with her PTSD and her layering and other-defenses, and a few OTHER terrible tricks that she could surprise anyone else with, before she went!…)
Lee was groaning as he buried his face in his hands. Demon or not, he was pretty darn sure that his own guess was correct, and not Bill's. Because hey, didn't Miz say that Kryptos guy was inviting her to restaurants and amusement parks? Those were very much 'date' types of places to take a girl! Just to test out his theory, Lee asked, "Did this guy invite you to go out with him by yourselves to any other places?"
Miz counted out on her fingers, "A zoo, the beach, a flower garden, we tried to go to the movies once but they wouldn't permit me to enter, so I had to disguise myself."
"And these are all things that you like?" Lee pressed. "That he knew that you like when he asked you to go there with just him?"
Miz paused and thought about it. "Yes?" She thought about it. "You know, Kryptos doesn't like flowers, but he always gets me some, and not the bouquet stuff, I don't like those, he gets me little potted flowers… and he got that part time job because he said he didn't want to rely on my money all the time..." she frowned. "Ah, he's always thinking of me. I should thank him for that when I get home."
Lee stared at her.
"Uh…" said Lee. "You know that when a guy does stuff that he knows you like, that he doesn't really like so much… that he really really likes you, right? And wants to date you? --I mean, the guy's crazy about you," Lee said. "You just said that he's thinking about you all the time!"
Miz blinked, still uncomprehending. "Yeah. He's my friend and he loves me. But dating…" She looked confused. "Why would he want to date me? That's… that's not…" She frowned. "Why would he want me? That doesn't…"
Everyone, even Ford, was staring at her at this point. (...Well, except Sixer, who was bored by the conversation, and scribbling down other thoughts in his notebook.) Stan sighed and took over.
"Kid, pat your sister on the head for me. --Miz?" Stan said, as Bill started doing that, "We can talk about this later. Don't worry about it, for now. Yeah?" The way Stan saw it, he figured that the dragon lady must have even worse self-esteem issues than he'd thought… because this was, hell, Ford-level dating issues. Like, nobody-could-ever-possibly-like-me-because-of-my-hands-denial and all the rest of it. Just, I-am-a-triangle-and-everybody-hates-triangles-so-that-can't-be-a-thing-denial instead. (Stan had never really figured that one out for Ford; he was gonna need the kid's help for this one, but he wasn't too sure how well that would go over, with how the kid had talked about 'squirmy' stuff with his kid sister every single time so far...)
"It's nice that he's thinking of you, yeah?" Stan tried with her, instead of trying to tackle it all with her right then. (Especially not with Ford and the younger twins around. Besides, they had other stuff they needed to talk about that night, before it got too late.) "Maybe you could just, y'know, try thinking about him a little more often, too. See what happens. Just in case?"
Miz still looked confused but nodded. "I check up on him to make sure he's getting rest and eating properly. He forgets sometimes when he's working."
"That's good. --That you're doin' that for him," Stan added, not wanting her to maybe misunderstand what he was saying. "Maybe think about stuff he might like, too, when you're out… looking at stuff, next?" Stan told her, trying to think of examples for her. "You're looking for cookbooks next; maybe try thinking of other stuff that guy might like to read? Is he a reader?" Stan asked. Because, yeah, that was a thing. He'd liked reading comic books and some stuff, growing up, and Ford had always read everything he could get his hands on. But apparently some people weren't real 'big on' reading, and didn't even like newspapers or comic books. (That had been a big shocker, when he'd realized it. ...Because, y'know, there was a difference between deciding to finish reading something or hanging out with your friends, and just not liking reading at all.)
"He's a really big reader." Miz grinned. "He also likes to learn things himself, without me telling him. It's really cute."
"Well see there, you got something in common," Stan said. "You both like learnin' stuff. Might want to keep an eye out for books for him more often when you're out, maybe, then?" Stan said leadingly. "He does flowers for you, you do books for him?"
"Okay." Miz agreed easily. She thought about it. "Kryptos also likes power, so maybe I could get him books about how to gain political influence? Or books on how to manipulate the physical world?" she mused.
("Oh, he is DEFINITELY planning on killing you and trying to take over your Henchmaniacs," Bill muttered, which got him a long warning look from Stanley for some reason Stanley wasn't saying. --Which was stupid, because it wasn't like Bill hadn't had PLENTY of experience in SEEING the WARNING SIGNS before!!! He KNEW what he was TALKING ABOUT!)
"Uh," said Stan, to Miz. "Maybe start small first. --Ask your brother for pointers," he said next, because the kid would probably not recommend anything to her that might be too 'kill and/or enslave the dimension' kinds of powerful. ...Probably. (Not if the kid was worried about the guy 'taking over', anyway.)
"I don't suppose we could talk about something else, beyond how to be a better--" Ford grimaced, then cut himself off. (Which had Stan just about ready to hug him, right there.) "Something lighter, perhaps?" he tried again, with an edge to his tone that he couldn't quite keep out of it.
"--Sure," Stan said, taking that and running with it. "First things first. --Kid, your sister tell you about a list that she's supposed to be writing up for you?"
Bill blinked.
Then Bill looked over at his sister. (She had said something earlier about a list that was…)
Miz flicked her wrist and summoned a little notebook. She handed it over to him, looking embarrassed. "Just… stuff that I might need you to help me with? I guess?" She took a large bite out of her taco to avoid having to talk.
"It's supposed to be a bunch of stuff that she thinks is any kind of problem at all," Stan told the kid (trying to make stuff clear -- and not just for the kid, because his brother looked about ready to have a heart attack right there for a second). "All the stuff that ain't so great that she doesn't like, or that she wishes wasn't a thing." (...Aaaaand Ford wasn't looking any better. Hell, Ford. Stan shot him a look to calm the hell down.)
Bill looked down at it and started paging through it slowly.
"--I asked her to write it up for you," Stan said, trying to make it as clear as he could, "But you should probably talk to her about it, maybe ask her about a few things that you might already be worried about, too. --I'm tryin' to help you catch a couple things early here, kid," Stan told him outright. "Like the emotion thing. Don't really need any of this biting her or anybody else, later." (And now Ford was eyeing the kid and the notebook. Stan didn't know what the hell his brother had been thinking before, but it definitely must not've been stuff like the PTSD thing, or that.)
"Mm," said Bill. He frowned slightly as he flipped a page, then went a bit still where he was sitting in place. (In the meantime, Stan got up to help clear some of the plates… and pull a few frozen ice-pops out of the 'colder-box' for the younger twins, his brother, Miz, and himself.)
"...You are oscillating between extremes?" Bill said, looking up at Miz abruptly. She winced. "I'm just having trouble adjusting. Sometimes my powers really want to do certain things, but I don't want them to…"
"This is not 'problems adjusting'," Bill said, waving the small notebook at her. "You are going near-empty, then full again, on purpose." He sounded more than a little stressed, enough that it had Ford watching him again (while Lee got up from the table and went over to sit near his twin on the bunk beds, where he was). "And you feel detached from what your own energy does and can do internally?" Bill asked next. "Even though you were not layering before?" (Hell, the kid had only gotten through the first two pages, there, and he was already… Stan sighed to himself, because yeah, he'd called it.)
Miz winced. "Back home I had a better grasp on how much energy it took to do stuff. It's just… harder here. And my powers have always felt somewhat separate from me."
"This was a problem before." The kid did not look happy about this. "This is what you were writing about before. --This is half the reason that you felt-and-feel this way?" Bill said. "More than half? --Almost-all-of-it now, because you have me and your friends?" Bill said, of the itching and the human-like suicidal-like behavior, of tearing herself open and bleeding out the 'excess' energy...
"...I'm sorry…" Miz looked down at her lap.
"'Sorry'." Bill repeated. "Sorry is not…" He looked away from her, and back at the notebook. "'Sorry' is not the word," he told her, setting it down. "You should have told me sooner. --THIS is what is causing most of your problems." He looked back over at her and brought his face down in, closer to hers, almost nose-to-nose. "If this goes away -- if I FIX what makes the problem, and the ITCHING goes away because the problem causing the itching is no longer THERE, well. --THAT solves LOTS OF THINGS!" he told her, his eyes going a good bit brighter.
"...I just got used to it… didn't really think about fixing it… didn't really occur to me…" Miz mumbled.
"--Like the emotions-feeling," Bill said, leaning back and away from her slightly, going back to sitting upright again. "Don't be 'sorry' -- be NOT-sorry! You are telling me now, and we will fix it ALL now," he said to her firmly. "Before you leave. --We will work on this NEXT," he informed her. "This is IMPORTANT." And then Bill looked up at Stanley. "--You noticed this."
"Was talkin' with her; some of it came up," Stan said. "Figured I'd get her to get it all down for you, whatever she could think of."
"This was a good idea," Bill said, looking down at the notebook, and flipping on to the next page. "Thank you."
(Ford looked on at this, stunned.)
"You are telling me now," Bill said, as he reached up and patted Miz on the head, "This is good, that you are telling me," he added, as he looked down at the notebook again and continued reading one-handed, while Stan passed out ice pops.
Miz leaned lightly against her brother, relaxing slightly once she realized he wasn't angry at her for being broken messed up. She accepted the ice pop from Stan with a quiet, "Thanks." and stuck it in her mouth, feeling a little better.
"...You ARE hooked into the karmic cycle?" Bill stared at some of the stuff his sister had written, as he kept on patting her on the head. It included a lot more detail than what she'd written down in her blog before, and a lot of what he was reading looked like it implied that she really was… or MORE than 'implied' it. He winced. "It READS like you are. ...Ugh, the Karma system." Her talk of needing to do certain 'bad' things to settle her uncomfortableness whenever she gave 'freebies' to people… the fluctuating power levels and LOSS OF CONTROL… suddenly made A LOT more SENSE now!
Miz blinked slowly. "There's a system?"
"Yes," Bill said, sitting back a bit and grimacing. "I unhooked myself from it, a LONG time ago. Stupid cycles. Stupid shifting set-points." ...And he might still be in trouble at-present, because he MIGHT currently be hooked back INTO it, again. It was looking less and less likely, the more he narrowed down exactly how his anchor worked, but… he was still trying to be careful about that, and the multiplier effect that might be coming-calling any day now… (stupid lizard).
Bill frowned at the notebook as he finished reading and closed it up again, leaving his other hand resting on top of Miz's head, now.
"AT LEAST HALF of your problems stem from this," Bill told his sister, handing back the notebook and elaborating now on what he'd only written briefly to her on before. "The 'karmic cycle' is a long-term function of the Karmic system, and it all WANTS to be balanced. So it TRIES to 'balance' itself AGAINST YOU. --If you're HOOKED INTO it, then that might explain it!" He frowned. "It's cyclic. --It's enacting some penalty on you AFTER you do things, repeatedly, when you are doing those things repeatedly." Like eating. And using her powers, potentially in certain specific ways. "--That system COULD be what's causing your pain and itching. That could be PART of the penalty." The question was whether it was for use, because of the specific use, because of the specific effect, or...
Miz sucked on the ice pop and thought about it. "Dat sshounds wite." She mumbled through the sweet cold treat. The way her powers would stir restlessly right after she does certain things...
"The GOOD NEWS is, you can detach yourself from the karmic cycle, AND remove yourself from the Karma system entirely!" Bill told her. "The BAD NEWS is," and he grimaced at this, "The PERMANENT and IMMEDIATE drop in power." Bill sighed as he handed the notebook back to her. (He'd memorized it, and it was her notebook; she could add more to it later if she wanted.) "You CAN build your power levels back up over time," he told her, "The HARD way." Knowledge-based power was ALWAYS harder! --But in Bill's vaunted opinion, far more worth it for the CONTROL one received, and had over oneself and one's own 'destiny' and future-outcomes!
"But," Bill said, "The 'hard way' is much more stable. And can be expanded almost infinitely FOREVER!" He smiled, then frowned again. "Karmic systems can only spike so far outwards FOR you, in YOUR favor," Bill told her, "Because they are a connected-loop. They can only spike so far without breaking the loop. And the loop refuses to break; inherent limitations," the older demon told her, of what he knew of how the local system in this set worked. (And if he was ever going to get RID of that system entirely -- which he WAS, eventually -- he KNEW he was going to have to be very, VERY careful about the backlash, because the AMOUNT of pent up energy stored in there… and given what it was tied into...)
"--And they can shift over time," was Bill's next warning to her, "And they are ALWAYS affected by other people. --You will have more consistent effects," and be much safer and better off, in his opinion, "If you put yourself OUTSIDE OF the cycle," he informed her, "No matter WHO you are Dealing with. It won't matter WHO they ARE, WHAT they want, or WHAT the outcome is. --History, time, place, space, area of effect, and current 'moralistic' thought-patterns of EVERYONE ELSE as related to those things, are no longer modifiers that must be taken into account for their effect on YOU. --You can just do what you WANT, with NO CONSEQUENCES!" Bill told her with a smile. "The only penalties you have to worry about THEN are ones you can then-control, all-direct and all-easily-Seen and easily-understood. ...Not something that tries to remain COMPLETELY HIDDEN and is almost IMPOSSIBLE to untangle causally," Bill complained. (He'd absolutely HATED having to calculate all that out, once he'd realized what sort of problems he'd actually been RUNNING INTO there, and WHERE they had actually been coming from.)
(Stan watched his brother paying close attention to all this, without looking like he was paying close attention to what he was hearing at all. And Stan took another sip of his water, and let the demons just keep right on talking...)
"The ONLY 'good news', besides that," Bill told her, "Is that MOST of your problems seem to be hitting you DIRECTLY. As in, not being routed-thrown-and-tossed-at-you through OTHER PEOPLE, through 'knee-jerk' karma-prompted actions, or OTHER PLACES, through supposedly-'natural' events." Because THAT all got really messy, VERY quickly. "...Unless your Karma system is VERY different from the one that is here," Bill told her. "But you are NOT seeing or feeling any changes in what is happening, yes?" Bill asked her. "The DEGREE of the SPIKES here are worse, but the IMPACT is the same." At least, that was what she'd seemed to indicate to him so far? Which was why he was checking with her by asking her now, straight-out!
Miz thought about it and slowly nodded. "I think so. They're all still making the same uncomfortable feeling." She glanced over at Ford and Stan quickly. "I don't think my powers like it when I'm trying to be 'good' for so long." (Stan looked over at Ford at this, but Ford was acting all stone-faced, like he didn't believe any of this for a second. ...Hadn't touched his own ice-pop yet, either.)
"You can try to switch your OWN definition of 'good' and 'bad' for awhile," Bill told her, "Like those 'Blessings'," he told her. But then he added, warningly, "But you can only FOOL a Karma system for so long. And THEN-- well." Then it came back to bite you, in the VERY WORST way! --And as far as BILL was concerned, the only WORST that HE wanted to have around? WAS HIM!!!
"I've been making all sorts of justifications to alleviate or get around some of it." Miz pointed out. "I don't really know about switching it, sounds like it would cause problems down the line."
"Yes," Bill said. "DON'T 'switch' it; disconnect from the system ENTIRELY, instead!"
Stan blinked at the demon's conversation. "Wait, justifications… for 'good' and 'bad'?" What little he could understand was that it sounded like Miz's powers were hooked into some kind of system that apparently penalized her for trying to be 'good' by... making her itch? Badly enough that she wanted to tear herself open and die? --How was that 'balancing' things out?!? ...Hell, was her idea of 'good' really that screwed up?
Bill looked over at him. "Karmic systems depend and RUN on a definition of 'good' and 'bad'. 'Good' people are rewarded in large ways overall, over time, and doing 'good things' is rewarded variably. And 'bad' people, well." The kid looked annoyed. "Extra-bonuses to 'good' people doing HORRIBLE things to 'bad' people! --Especially if the things are 'bad things' being done to 'balance out' those very 'bad' people," the kid told him sourly. "Because acting as an equalizer means that the system-underpinnings themselves don't have to handle it, on their own. So those 'energy savings' get passed along as karmic benefit to the acting-enactor. And NO bonuses for 'bad' people, ever, no matter what they do or don't-do, no-matter-what. --How FAIR is that?!" The kid looked incensed.
Stan stared, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what this all meant. "So…" he started, but the kid cut him off, apparently not done yet with his short (for him) rant.
"--And if ENOUGH people decide that 'some thing' is BAD and then YOU are suddenly classified as a 'BAD' person because of this, WELL," Bill said next, "Aren't YOU just three-different-types of screwed over, by what all those OTHER STUPID PEOPLE THINK!" Bill crossed his arms and leaning back. "--Do you know what all THAT is ACTUALLY pushing for?!" Bill looked even angrier. "--It's pushing for SOMEONE to TAKE CONTROL of ALL THOUGHT!" Bill said next. "To dictate FREE WILL, to try and game the system!" (And Bill suddenly looked incredibly tense, Stan realized.) "--And it would work!" Bill spat out next, "They would be able to REWRITE THOSE rules!" which… "Into something EVEN MORE STUPID!!!" ...was probably why he was so incensed about the whole thing. (Whatever the hell the kid meant by what he called 'free will', it was something he really did take real seriously, and didn't want anybody to mess with. For anybody.)
(...And adding all that 'making the rules even worse' stuff on top of that? No real mystery why the kid was hating on everything there, from start to finish. Stan shook his head. ...Though he did wonder how somebody got 'classified' as bad, and what the kid's definition of 'bad' actually was. It seemed to shift every other day on him, if not every other conversation. ...Heh, and the kid thought Ford was inconsistent? Hell...)
Miz raised an eyebrow. "Well, mostly, whenever my powers get uppity, I go and mess with some Federation guys. Pranks here and there, just bad enough to calm my itching down. But sometimes it gets too bad, generally when I've got too much energy inside me that wants to go out and start twisting things and I have to bleed out the excess…" She paused. "And sometimes it happens when I feel super sad--"
"--Miz, you need to stop there," Stan said abruptly, not really thinking through the implications of what she'd just said (about those Federation jerks) yet. "Don't talk about that kind of stuff in front of…" He glanced over at the younger twins, who weren't exactly listening in at the moment, but who were only a few feet away, sitting on one of the bunks. "Remember?" (He deliberately did not look over at his brother just then. Last thing he needed was to add Ford to the list and get an argument out of the dragon-lady.)
Miz looked over at the twins, wincing. "Right… but they're older, and not Dipper and Mabel? I thought they'd be able to handle it?" Stan shook his head 'no'.
"They ain't head shrinks," Stan told her. "I told you. Just because I can handle it, don't go thinking just anybody else can, just because. It ain't about age," Stan told her. "It's about what people can handle. Don't go shovin' that stuff in their heads," he repeated.
"Stan…" Ford said slowly, but Stan waved him off, with an, "It's fine, Ford. I can handle talking to the demon-kids about their stuff. --Don't you feel like you've gotta go tryin' to." And Stan left it at that. (He had to trust that Ford would leave the room if it got to be too much for him, or say something. He couldn't look out for his brother that far, and handle two demons at once. Not with the kid and the dragon-lady screwing things up left and right. He could be looking to cut some things off at the pass, but that didn't mean that he could--)
Miz frowned as she looked back and forth between the older set of twins. "I don't want to make you sad just because I'm messed up…" She pulled at her dress a little. Her ice pop was already gobbled up, melting quickly from her internal heat.
"Look," Stan said, "We're not gonna be able to handle this all tonight. --I was just tryin' to get the kid started thinking about things," he looked over at the kid, "Which you are," Stan told the older demon. "And I figure it's gonna take you two awhile to talk through a bunch of this stuff," Stan told them both next, "And then, y'know, come talk to me about it after that, once you think you're ready to actually do something about it, to run it all by me first. You know why; we talked about this," he told the kid, for Miz's benefit (so she could ask the kid about it later if she wanted to). Because he was helping the kid workshop his ideas, good or bad or weird or whatever. Getting the kid to agree to that had been easier than Stan had thought it was gonna be; it had been one of the very-first things he'd tried to do, and… as far as Stan was concerned, it had saved him and the kids multiple times so far, and counting.
Stan glanced at Miz. "But what I'm getting from all this stuff, is that you're really on the wrong, long end of the see-saw, here," he told Miz. "Because when you're doin' stuff you think is 'good' things, you feel pretty awful until you do something you think of as 'bad' to 'balance' it out. Am I gettin' that right?"
Miz nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's why I find reasons why I want something, when I want to give other people things. If I have some personal, selfish reason for wanting something, then it's not a problem."
"Because... what, being 'selfish' is bad?" Stan said, confused. (Ford gave him a look.)
"Generally, that category of things is considered 'bad' by the vast majority of people in every dimension in existence that is out there, yes," the kid told him, with a sigh. "--Are you seeing the problem here, already?" the kid then added, almost-cheekily.
Stan suddenly connected a few dots. "Wait. Is that why you always have your own reasons for wanting to do stuff?" he asked Miz next. "Like, what you said about the washing machine -- making it to help the kids, but then 'really' because you wanted it yourself?" ...Was some of this junk with the kid left over from when the kid had had problems with karma, too? The kid never seemed to do anything without a reason, and he always had a shit-ton of reasons for doing anything he said he wanted to do. The kid had said that he had cut himself off, disconnected from that karma system thing, eventually. But the triangle demon had had to be stuck with this stuff in the system, long enough to know how 'annoying' it was. (Because for the kid, everything he didn't like was 'annoying'; kid didn't differentiate all that much, other than maybe toss a few adjectives in there, on top of everything, if you were lucky.) And the kid had always seemed three types of cautious to him when he was working out stuff -- literally working out stuff, with those 'probabilities of success' of his...
Miz nodded. Ford couldn't help but frown at her even as he glanced up at Bill, looking at him over the book that he'd been 'reading' while listening in on all this. The older demon hadn't lied about any of this. ...As far as he could tell, Bill hadn't felt that he'd left much out of his own ranting on this odd choice of subject, either. (Nothing that the demon considered important that would alter or otherwise change the nature of their understanding of the information drastically, certainly.) And if this was true, if there was some sort of penalty that the universe itself inflicted upon demons for...
"...Who does this 'Karma system' apply to?" Ford asked Bill slowly.
And he most certainly did not like the answer he got out of him, when the triangle demon turned to him and said: "Everyone."
And then said: "--even ME, until I disconnected myself from it a LONG time ago!"
Miz added on, "I guess humans don't feel it directly?" She leaned against Bill's side.
"Humans don't usually feel it directly, no," Bill told her. "No-one does, except demons."
Ford was staring at Bill. Something wasn't quite… He could tell Bill had just lied about something there, but also… not quite. He'd left something out...
"Who isn't subject to it?" Ford tried next, and Bill just laughed at him and said:
"What, you want a LIST? --Get in line!" he was told by Bill, and Ford frowned at the absolute evasiveness of that statement.
Miz asked her brother, "Is Ax not affected by it?"
And at that, Bill hesitated.
"...Not that I'm aware of," Bill said slowly, after a long moment. (It was clear to the others that he was thinking hard.) "But I didn't check for that, at the time that I Saw it 'in-person' last. --Either time." And the Karma system-underpinnings were VERY hard to See, let alone nail down. "The stupid frilly lizard DOES have Rules; three of them that are externally-applied to it, that it THINKS it HAS to uphold," Bill told her in far too-even tones. "And a lot MORE that it created for itself OUT of those three. ...Bound itself up even tighter, the stupid thing," Bill muttered. Then he added, with fake-brightness suddenly, "--Wouldn't be surprised if the stupid thing ADDED itself into all that, too! ...But probably not," Bill ended on a more sober note, then added even more darkly, "Because it will have CONSEQUENCES COMING TO IT that are a LONG TIME COMING if it was…" And then Bill even waved that off with a hand, saying, "And then it wouldn't be able to do its job anymore, which it is 'required' to do! --So probably almost-definitely not part-of and/or under-the-influence-of the 'Karma system', no."