A "Slays Together" log
JT and Nny make a grocery run.


Nny: Nny looks around the mostly-empty store with a trace of a manic grin. "See? It's better to shop at 3 am."

JT.: Glancing around as well, JT matches the grin with one of her own. "This IS nice. Not that I ever doubted you, of course."

Nny: Grabbing a cart, he peers at the aisles. "Do you have a list?"

JT.: "If you want to call it that." She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a small scrap of paper. "Daddy would like us to pick up some sweets, and we need milk and..." She pauses at the last item, eye twitching just a tiny bit. "...Cherry Coke."

Nny: "And maraschino cherries. Maybe some hamburger."

JT.: "Hamburger sounds good." She shoves the list back into her pocket. "I can't think of anything else. Except maybe some Sprite...?" She adds, hopefully.

Nny: "Perfect for Shirley Temples!" Winking, he heads for the soda aisle at a dead run.

JT.: JT wrinkles her nose at that, but then grins, sprinting after her father with the intention of beating him to the aisle. Everything's more fun if you turn it into a game.

Nny: The cart, however, is an unfair advantage; Nny rests his feet on it and careens across the freshly-buffed floor like an oversized rollerskate. Until, of course, he overbalances and falls over, cart and all.

JT.: First things first; she giggles. Then, after sliding a short distance, she comes to a stop by the cart, offering a hand and a brilliant smile. "Are you alright, Nny?"

Nny: "This FUCKING floor is slippery!" he growls, getting to his feet. But they're on a mission, aren't they? And it would be good to get ice cream. Teatime would like that. "I don't know how much fun this place is anymore."

JT.: "We could talk to someone about the floors once we've paid for everything." JT offers helpfully, in a tone that suggests, should this happen, very little talking would actually occur. She attempts not to sound too eager.

Nny: "We could do that." A slow, wide smile. "They don't have a huge selection, but they -do- have some kitchen tools here."

JT.: She grins hugely, and begins bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm sure we could find something. We can -always- find something."

Nny: "Always. I mean, they at least have plastic forks." Heading for the soda first, he begins loading 12-packs of Cherry Coke and Sprite into the cart.

JT.: Excited at the promise of Fun Stuff in the near future, JT helps, grabbing an extra pack of Sprite in the hopes of, just maybe, eventually getting to drink some without having cherry syrup put in while her back is turned.

Nny: "Ummm. Ok. Gonna get the cherries now. Want apple sauce?" He wheels the now-heavy cart toward the canned fruit section.

JT.: "Yes, please! And maybe some pineapples, if you don't mind." She skips over to the nearby refrigerated section, returning to the cart with a package of hamburger, a gallon of milk, and two cartons of ice cream - vanilla and cherry chocolate chip.

Nny: "Apple sauce, pineapples, cherries..." he throws items carelessly into the cart. "What kind of candy should we get? Skittles?"

JT.: She nods, wondering if the cart was heavy enough now that she could ride on the end without having to worry about it toppling over again. "Something chocolate, too, I think."

Nny: "Snickers. Those are chewy and good."

JT.: "Okay. Skittles and Snickers it is." She places one of each into the cart, before glancing up at the small signs hanging from the ceiling. "Ooh, the kitchen supplies are in the next aisle." She beams.

Nny: "I think that will round out our trip -nicely-," he says with a familiar predatory grin.

JT.: Oh, she knows -that- look. Giggling in a delighted (and slightly demented) manner, JT leads the way, browsing through the tools the way most girls her age would browse through clothing. She places a few of the more -interesting- objects into the cart.

Nny: Whistling merrily, Nny takes a bread knife from the display. "Are we ready, do you think?"

JT.: Nothing else catches her eye, so she nods. "Yes, I believe so."

Nny: Gripping the handle of the cart, he literally -skips- toward the registers; sometimes Teatime's mannerisms rub off. At this hour there's no line, and they're rung up quickly.

JT.: She bounces next to him, a very wide smile spread across her face. Fun Stuff soon, so very soon. She glances up at Nny, silently asking when they were going to start playing.

Nny: After paying for their order, he snatches up the breadknife and slits the cashier's throat, spraying them both with bright arterial blood. He turns to JT with a merry laugh. "Now let's find the guy polishing the floor before the ice cream melts."

JT.: The warm, sticky feeling of blood isn't alarming at all to her, nor is it anything new. In fact, it makes her laugh, and she picks a cleaver out from one of the bags. "Sounds like fun!" After a second, she takes out a corkscrew as well. She's always wanted to use one of these.

Nny: "First one to find him gets him!"

JT.: Ooh, a challenge! JT doesn't waste time. She turns and runs one direction, as fast as she can, grinning from ear-to-ear, keeping an eye out for whichever unfortunate employee happened to polish the floors that night.

Nny: Nny dashes the other way, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake.

JT.: It doesn't take long. JT finds a rather greasy-looking young man near the back, storing a few cleaning supplies. As he is listening to a CD-player, he doesn't notice the strange, blood-covered girl until she's -right there-, cleaver raised and smiling horribly. "Hi!" She chirps, before she lunges.

Nny: Nny hears her, of course. His daughter's cheery attack-call is familiar, and he races over, hoping to watch some of her work; he really is proud of her.

JT.: The man is screaming - they always do, JT has noticed - but all she's done so far is slice an ear off. Once she sees Nny, however, she pins the man's hand to the wall with a knife kept at her hip and sets to work (removing digits, carving intricate little patterns, and my goodness, corkscrews really are -such- fun) Even though he lost, it's only fair to let him watch. After all, he -is- her father.

Nny: The ice cream forgotten for now, he leans against the wall, radiating pride. "Good technique," he tells her with clear approval.

JT.: The compliment makes her beam, a bright, incredibly happy smile that clashes oddly with the blood splattered on her face. "Thank you!" Well, he's just about dead now, and there's not much skin left to play with, so she slams the cleaver down through his eye, smiling at the resulting -crackle- of bone.

Nny: The finality of the sound clears Nny's head a little, and he gives her a fond hug. "Let's get that food home."

JT.: JT returns the hug, kissing her father on the cheek, ignoring the blood there easily. "Okay."