Of all things to ever happen to him, Eduardo never actually thought he would be able to say that he broke his leg trying to save his girlfriend from evil toys
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"What the fuck's this?" Chris asks as he takes a seat on the arm of the couch where Eduardo's sitting, pointing at the television. He still doesn't think he's all the way sober yet, but he can't be blamed, really. His mate's birthday being invaded by toys come to life had called for a few drinks and pills. It's all been good for keeping his mind off of other stuff, though.
It takes him a lot longer than it should to notice that there's anything off about Eduardo, though.
Eduardo is about to answer the question about the TV show (he doesn't know what it is, not having been paying enough attention during the opening credits, except that it's pretty amusing) when another comes, one that, he thinks, is a little more important. It isn't something he's given much thought to, actually, that people are going to have to be told about this. For a moment, he's almost apologetic for the very fact of that, but he shrugs it off easily enough. Yesterday was hectic and his mind's been elsewhere; remembering that people won't automatically know about what happened has been buried under several other things, and that's probably understandable
( ... )
“Wait… you mean you jumped through a fuckin’ window? Jesus. That’s mental.” He laughs though, at the idea of it, his eyes focused on the cast for a second. Maybe he’s lucky that he came through the whole thing without so much as a scratch on him.
Chris blinks, then frowns, realizing he hasn’t seen Olive since all that happened.
“Olive’s alright though?” Chris reckons she probably is, since Eduardo doesn’t look too shaken up about any of it.
It probably is mental, Eduardo isn't going to deny that much. It's just that it was also necessary. He could've stood at her door for however long, waiting for her to try to get through, but there'd have been no way to determine how much damage could be done in that time, or if she would even be able to make it through at all. Given the choice between getting hurt himself or having something happen to Olive, he'll take the former each and every time. That doesn't mean this couldn't have been avoided, but he'd still do it again if it came to it.
"She's fine," he answers, nodding, grateful and visibly so. "One of the, um, unicorn horns scratched her leg before I got to her, but other than that, we managed to fend everything off alright." He lets out a laugh. "Jesus, it still sounds crazy to talk about."
"Fuckin' unicorns," Chris replies, "No wonder they're extinct, man. Hey, but... I guess the stuffed ones don't work like the ones in the jungle, then yeah?"
He's heard that the island actually has it's own unicorns, but that they'll only stick around if you're a virgin or whatever. If that's all true, then Chris hasn't got a chance in hell of seeing them. Unless it counts that he hasn't had sex in like... ages now.
"I think these were worse," Eduardo says with a short, sharp laugh, head tipping back. He only saw one of the real unicorns once, though he rarely thinks about that at all anymore, it was so long ago. Still, he couldn't get within a few feet of it, and these little stuffed ones seemed out for his blood. Chances are, the big one would have gored him if he'd actually managed to get too close, but with the tiny ones, it was entirely unprompted.
He nearly mentions that they probably would have gone after anyone, virgin or not. After having mentioned one of them scratching Olive, though, he thinks better of it, not about to imply however vaguely anything about Olive's sex life, no matter how much may speak for itself. "I guess not, though, yeah."
"S'pose I got off easy, then," Chris replies, thinking about how his costume might've turned out if he hadn't been at a party full of people when it'd decided to come to life to try to kill everyone. It'd been fuckin' mental, that.
"Olive told you? About the Lady Gaga shit?"
Maybe Chris hasn't talked to her yet today, but she'd spent what felt like ages sewing little bears and rabbits and shit together. She had to have mentioned it.
"That's - that's the person you were dressing up as, right?" Eduardo asks, brows furrowing a little. He remembers being told about the costume, but the reference itself went over his head, from before his time; he thinks that's the name Olive gave him, but he's not entirely sure. He does, however, recall full well what the costume itself entailed, and at that, he draws in a breath, having forgotten about it before now. "Shit, yeah, that could have been lethal. None of them mauled you too bad?"
He nods in response, then pulls up one of his pant legs to show Eduardo the bite marks. They hurt last night, and there's some bruising, but compared to Eduardo, Chris reckons he got off easy.
"D'you know the thing they never tell you about fuckin' stuffed bears, mate?" he says, "You know, how they've like... got their mouths sewn shut and shit? It's 'cause they've got really sharp teeth."
Looking at the bite marks on Chris' leg, Eduardo winces sympathetically. It may not be a break or anything as bad as one, but he'd never belittle what happened to someone else on his own account, especially considering the circumstances under which he sustained this injury. He'd do it all over again if he had to, made the choice to do so in the first place. This is different.
"Fuck, Jesus. Yeah, it looks like it," he says, frowning. "Here's hoping all their mouths stay sewn shut from now on, yeah?"
"Yeah, seriously," Chris replies, and come to think of it, he'll never look at another plush animal the same way again. At least, without making sure he's poked it to make sure it's not alive, at least.
"Only about a month or so," Eduardo answers, head tipping to the side. "Which is apparently pretty lucky, as broken legs go. And means I probably won't be dealing with these things anymore -" He gestures to the pair of crutches propped up against the couch. "- by the time it usually gets cold around here." Not that he's remotely looking forward to that, especially when he's still incapable of making any sense of it, but something tells him that crutches and snow wouldn't mix.
Chris barely notices the crutches until Eduardo mentions them, and stands to try his hand at them while they're just sitting round talking about stuff. He's lucky that his leg's not broken; he'd be rubbish at crutches.
"What? That happens every year?" he asks, because he's only been through the snow on the island the one time. It was brilliant, it was.
"Apparently," Eduardo says, nodding, trying his best - with minimal success - not to laugh as Chris attempts to maneuver on his crutches. "I've never seen any of it, but it's all documented and shit. I've been trying to figure out the science behind it, but so far, I've come up with nothing." That doesn't mean he'll stop trying, of course. There's little he can do until it happens, anyway; until then, he'll work out whatever he can.
"What science?" Chris asks, trying to see if he can balance on just the crutches and not put his legs on the ground at all. It's really fucking difficult.
"I always thought this place just does whatever the fuck it wants, yeah? What's scientific about loads of plushy toys trying to kill people?"
"Not the toys, I wouldn't even know where the fuck to start with those," Eduardo says, letting out a short, dry laugh. Some things are better left untouched, and anyway, after having been attached by them, he isn't sure he'd want to be anywhere near them again, not even knowing that they're no longer dangerous. "The weather patterns, what makes it get cold so suddenly and all of that. I've always been kind of into meteorology, so... but so far, there's nothing logical at all."
It takes him a lot longer than it should to notice that there's anything off about Eduardo, though.
"What happened to your leg, mate?"
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Chris blinks, then frowns, realizing he hasn’t seen Olive since all that happened.
“Olive’s alright though?” Chris reckons she probably is, since Eduardo doesn’t look too shaken up about any of it.
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"She's fine," he answers, nodding, grateful and visibly so. "One of the, um, unicorn horns scratched her leg before I got to her, but other than that, we managed to fend everything off alright." He lets out a laugh. "Jesus, it still sounds crazy to talk about."
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He's heard that the island actually has it's own unicorns, but that they'll only stick around if you're a virgin or whatever. If that's all true, then Chris hasn't got a chance in hell of seeing them. Unless it counts that he hasn't had sex in like... ages now.
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He nearly mentions that they probably would have gone after anyone, virgin or not. After having mentioned one of them scratching Olive, though, he thinks better of it, not about to imply however vaguely anything about Olive's sex life, no matter how much may speak for itself. "I guess not, though, yeah."
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"Olive told you? About the Lady Gaga shit?"
Maybe Chris hasn't talked to her yet today, but she'd spent what felt like ages sewing little bears and rabbits and shit together. She had to have mentioned it.
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"D'you know the thing they never tell you about fuckin' stuffed bears, mate?" he says, "You know, how they've like... got their mouths sewn shut and shit? It's 'cause they've got really sharp teeth."
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"Fuck, Jesus. Yeah, it looks like it," he says, frowning. "Here's hoping all their mouths stay sewn shut from now on, yeah?"
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"So how long until you get rid of it?"
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"What? That happens every year?" he asks, because he's only been through the snow on the island the one time. It was brilliant, it was.
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"I always thought this place just does whatever the fuck it wants, yeah? What's scientific about loads of plushy toys trying to kill people?"
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