"You need to come up with some different threats," says Priestly, poking his head out even though he can't see. "I think he stopped believing that one a long time ago. Especially the Harrison Ford part."
"There are so many more interesting ways I can answer that question than telling you where Ampersand is," says Priestly. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with one of them instead? I promise they're fun."
Yorick looks torn, but in his hands are the remains of the only pair of sunglasses he's been able to get that goddamn box to cough up that don't look like his grandma's in months.
"But look," he says, nearly a whine. He holds them out to show Priestly. "It's like he's trying to ruin my life. This is all he does anymore, wreck my crap."
"That's just sick," Yorick says, taking it in from the doorway. He crosses his arms. "Sick and wrong, Brooke Davis. He shits on my pillow, but he makes you banana sundaes. Ampersand! Who raised you? Who? And don't answer some scientists at wherever the hell you came from, 'cause they aren't your daddy."
"When did he crap on your pillow?" Brooke asks, shooting Ampersand a startled look that he returns with large, dewy eyes. "Not the cute purple paisley one I made you? Is this because you didn't change his diaper?" Gathering the monkey to her, she asks, "Did he not change your diaper, sweetie?"
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Yorick's smile is somewhat manic when he steps out. "Where is my monkey?"
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"But look," he says, nearly a whine. He holds them out to show Priestly. "It's like he's trying to ruin my life. This is all he does anymore, wreck my crap."
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Ampersand's fingers grasp the pages of her fashion magazine and flip to the next page, earning him another stroke of his fur. "Good boy."
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Ampersand manages to look completely innocent, nuzzling against Brooke's neck.
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