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Alan walked around the corner, and screamed.
“Agh, you scared me, what the heck?!” Alan cried.
Scott was blue, or at least his face was. He was sitting at his desk furiously typing away at multiple screens, the blue paste over his face cracking between his brows due to the frown he's wearing.
“Langauge , Alan.” It was said on auto pilot, without breaking the staring contest that was taking place with the holo-screens.
“We’re not allowed ‘Heck’ now? For F…Fudge’s sake” Alan moaned.
Virgil strolled up behind Alan, carrying a couple of coffee mugs, “Why are we insulting the candy now?” he asked, side stepping around the teenage blockage in his way.
“I wanted to know what the H…Happy little accident, is going on with That!” he waved an arm in the direction of the grumpy smurf in residence at the desk.
“Happy little accident? I like that one.” Virgil chuckled. Alan expected to see a visible start or at least some expression of surprise as Virgil followed his pointing arm and beheld the blue covered mess before them. But no, nothing, of course Virgil took it in his stride. Walking over, Virgil placed the mugs on the desk, and then folded his arms in a clearly disappointed manner waiting for Scott to acknowledge his presence.
“What?” Scott asked, still not breaking gaze with the data before him, hands flying over keys.
“Scott, you know you can’t just slap a face mask on and call it self care. You’re meant to actually take a break and relax.”
Scott opened his mouth to respond, causing more of the gunk on his face to crack.
Virgil held up a hand to stop him.
“And so help me Scott if you’re about to reply with ‘I’ll sleep when I’m Dead.’ or any other variation of bullshit I’ll…..I’ll think of a really good threat and follow through on it.”
“Hey, why’s he allowed to cuss?” Alan was ignored.
Scott continued to glare, although now it was directed at Virgil and not the screens.
Virgil glared back, daring Scott to call him out on his threat.
They stayed locked like this for 20 seconds, long enough for Alan to feel completely ignored.
Then Virgil cracked, and the laughter came tumbling out of him.
“Seriously, have you seen what you look like?!” he spluttered. He poked a finger at the cracks between Scott's brows. “It’s meant to be relaxing!”
The scowl increased and Scott folded his arms. “It’s blueberry scented,” he huffed.
“It looks like you face-planted a cheesecake,” Virgil retorted, then frowned, “you didn’t, did you?” a little uncertain, stranger things had happened.
Scott refused to give that one the dignity of a verbal response, and instead stuck his middle finger up.
Alan spluttered in indignation.
“yeah Scott, there are children present!” Virgil pointed at the still disgruntled baby sibling, who erupted into fresh incoherent anger.
“I’m sorry, I should have said ‘young impressionable minds,’” Virgil corrected himself with mock solemnity.
This time it was Scott who cracked, laughing “that assumes he has one!”
Alan let out a scream of frustration, which made both siblings present laugh even more, and exited the room as quickly as his anger could carry him. He didn’t have time for whatever This was.
Annoying elder sibling's work completed, Virgil turned back to Scott, who was carefully attempting to scratch his nose without dislodging the caked-on facemask residing there.
“Seriously though, they’re not the organic ones Gordon bought at Christmas are they? Because the pink one stained him for three days.
Scott's wide eyes were all the answer that was needed, and Virgil was left laughing alone as Scott raced away to try and wash away the blue.