I'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ sɪᴄᴋ ʙᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴇʟʟ ( closed )

[stations]

Who: Jack Townsend & Co.
When: Month of April
Where: Nocwich; Thorne; The Horizon;
What: April Catch-All
Warnings: language, psychological horror, likely mentions of drugs, amputations, gaslighting, mental instability

Pᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ғᴏʀ ɴᴇʀᴠᴇs
Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛ ᴍᴇ
Yᴏᴜ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀʟʟ I ᴡᴀs ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ
Tʜᴇʏ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴏғғ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢs, ɴᴏᴡ I'ᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴘᴜᴛᴇᴇ, Gᴏᴅ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ʏᴏᴜ

Comments

[stations]

Okay, this is actually... kind of incredibly adorable? Watching Kyle not really know what to do with his hands while a raccoon tries to gently mug him is some particularly white-trash version of sweet. It's amusing enough that Jack doesn't actually try to call her off.

"If- that's okay with you. I don't think I can get rid of her. Morally, or like... in general." Turning loose a mutant moth-raccoon he imagined into existence, setting it free and abandoned into the wildlife surrounding Castle Thorne, seems ethically reprehensible. Also, he has the feeling she'd just find a way to come back. Nobody ever really tells a raccoon what to do.

The berry comes whizzing his direction. His eyes go wide. Rita's eyes go wide.

"Oh, shit-"

She vaults after it.

By some miracle of athletic prowess he doesn't actually have on a normal basis, he manages to catch it — meaning Rita is barreling straight for him. He does the only thing he can think of in that half-second span:

He chucks it directly back at Kyle.

Apparently they're playing monkey in the middle. Rita is not amused, and she tries her hardest to vault into the air to catch it, only to go sprawling backwards like a rolly-polly, butt over face in a graceless backflip.

in which I wonder if they even have windows

[ushiri]

He catches the berry easily with one hand, looking more thoughtful than outright against what Jack is asking.

"Isn't she a wild animal? Will she even be happy here?"

In their room, door closed. Won't she get bored? Maybe Jack could set her loose in the garden... watching her harass unsuspecting courtiers and officials would be funny to him, but not so much if she got caught, killed, and stuffed to be put on someone's mantle.

Oh, he'll stop torturing the poor beast now. He crouches down, holding the berry out on his open palm to the mutated raccoon. A peace offering.

Please don't bite him.

truly excellent question

[stations]

"I have... absolutely no idea," Jack admits bluntly, picking up his plate and fork. "I don't know where on the domestication spectrum to place mutated dream raccoons magically summoned into being. I don't even know where to place real Rita."

The one back home, he means. Technically wild, he supposes, though she lives under the gas station, eats dog food, and obeys simple commands. It's hard to say.

In any case, this Rita seems suspicious of the peace offering. She stares at Kyle for a long, silent moment. Tentatively approaches, reaching out her little almost-human hand slowly, then quickly scoops the berry away to begin munching. When no tricks occur and the berry prize is successfully nommed, she waddles peacefully away to disappear again beneath Jack's bed. Two glowing eyes peer out, blink unevenly, and then go completely dark.

"She's mainly just been hiding under there," Jack explains, spearing a bit of chicken and bringing it to his mouth. "If she's anything like the other Rita, I think she'll probably just sleep most of the time."

[ushiri]

Kahlil grins widely as Rita waddles back to her 'cave'. With any lucky, the berry's magical properties will satiate her hunger for as long as it does for humans and the warmth'll make her comfortable.

Maybe it won't be that bad.

With the beast temporarily subdued, Kahlil climbs back onto the bed. Jack's shoved vegetables back on his plate, but something about rodent fingers touching everything has tempered his appetite. He picks at pieces of meat with his fork, none of it making it to his mouth. He shrugs.

"As long as she doesn't bother the staff too badly, it'll probably be fine."

He gives up on his plate and leans over Jack's legs to grab one of the paperbacks off the nightstand. An eyebrow raises.

"But you're in charge of cleaning up after her."

He's not cleaning up raccoon urine and feces.