action;

[turn4bout]

[ KNOCK. KNOCK, MOTHERFUCKERS. Someone's pounding on your door. Might want to open it up. You wouldn't want to keep the FBI waiting, would you?

There are two "agents" at the door. Both in matching black suits with matching terribly colored, hideous ties. Both with badges in hand (Terezi's is upside down). One is covered in gray facepaint and has candy corn taped to her head. The other is Dean fucking Winchester.

And you, my friend, are suspected of a various assortment of crimes. ]

Comments

[urnewkingbitch.livejournal.com]

Shit, no need to yell, girl, I'm like five feet in front of you.

[Moving on~]

Aight, simple enough. Anythin' else for me?

[turn4bout.livejournal.com]

Feed us. We've been doing this FBI thing for, like, two hours now. And these shoes are terrible. And I'm hungry.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Burgers.

[Dean agrees, because interrogating is hard work.]

And a cold beer.

...but not for her.

[Pointed look at Terezi!mun.]

[urnewkingbitch.livejournal.com]

Terezi on alcohol is like sugar to a kid with ADHD.

[At least he and Dean can agree on that. Dave goes over to his closet and pulls out two burgers for them, setting them on his desk. He reaches back in to take out a cold beer and a cherry slushie, also setting them on his desk. Then he retrieves a burger and Coca-cola for himself.]

How's the investigation goin'?