Craig Date 2, Part 2: Hockey, Archery, Fish Sticks?

Craig

Craig walks his way to the Mistress Suite after a brief change of clothes and a shower. He, of course, did not shower for Mona’s sake. He did it for himself. He felt gross after basically not being able to get clean for the past two days. While he waits for 6 PM, he examines the statues. He can’t help but let those thoughts that will trigger that lucky bastard’s punishment sensation percolate. Mine is, of course, the best as it has me in it; the fatass’s look of pain is delightful after all the shit she’s put me through for no damn reason. The wimpy drow boy’s is pathetic. Look how small his little cocklet is. The dumbass terrorist is dyking out on the fatass. And the freak fag is using her freak dick on her like it’s not disgusting. Then, the fake tentacle plowing his ass hurts so bad that he forces himself to stop. Fuck that asshole.

So, when Mona shouts her Suite door open, Craig is bowled over in pain. He focuses his breath on calming his mind and soothing his brain. The squirming slows, then stops. He stands up straight.

“You okay, Craig?” Mona warily asks.

“I’m fine,” he lies, as easy as breathing. She doesn’t need to know.

Mona’s eyes narrow as she stares deeply in his eyes. “You have something to say to me.”

This time he can tell the truth, as he orders, “Fetch me a beer.” The gnoll pushes his way past her and starts to head to the Suite living room.

“Stop until I say otherwise. That’s an order,” Mona snaps right back. Craig freezes in place. She moves to stare into his eyes again. The girl has the nerve to ask, “Are you going to apologize?”

Dumbass shit lay bitch. I have nothing to apologize for. The thrust of a tentacle nearly knocks him to his knees. “I’m sorry,” he winces.

She stops looking at him, pointing at the sea elf maid skank. Craig sees Mona’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Same thing happens with the blue slut. Odd. The gamer girl then sighs and asks, “What’s your plan for tonight, Craig?”

“Watch some hockey and drink some beer. So, get me my beer, woman.”

“You know where the living room is, Craig. I bet your beer is waiting for you there. You can go now.”

Craig happily walks over to the living room. As promised, a single beer awaits him on the coffee table and a game of hockey is on. Excellent. First part of the plan is complete.

Andromeda

With just about everyone else out on dates, whether from worry about Mona, a tentative desire to explore new relationships, or malicious compliance, Andromeda sits with Mineko, who is happily eating fish sticks, just like she did for lunch.

So, Andromeda is surprised when the nekomata asks, out of nowhere, “How do I be a person?”

Andromeda blinks, trying to process the question. She doesn’t know how to respond, so she merely defers the answer, “I am not great at being a person either.”

The cat-girl cocks her head, as she is inclined to do when she is confused. She murmurs, “Is it hard to be a person?” Mineko offers Andromeda a fish stick.

The arcanist android accepts the fish and shrugs, “I find it hard. You’ll have an easier job of it, I suspect.”

Mineko asks, “Why do you think I will be better at being a person than you?”

“You’re friendly and warm and sweet. I’m... not.”

“So, friendly and sweet and warm are things people are?”

“At least good people. Bad people are not.”

“So, you are a bad person?”

“I want to be good. Truly bad people want to be cruel and bitter and cold. You remember people like that?”

Mineko nods, “The trainers back at the Academy. They enjoyed training us, especially when one of us failed. Do you think that you are like that, Andromeda?”

That question hurt more than Andromeda expected. She can only shake her head no. Mineko offers her another fish stick. The arcanist android again accepts it, actually giving them a taste. They are pretty good for fish sticks.

“I want to be a person for Mona, but I don’t know how. Maybe we can do something to help each other be more person?”

When it is phrased like that, who am I to deny the request? Andromeda is about to agree, only for Skye to come out of the kitchen. “If you two are serious, come with me...”

Mineko shoves the rest of her fish sticks in her mouth, then scurries over to the drow. Andromeda is considerably warier but follows as the two leave. Let’s see how this goes.

Mona

This version of sportsball doesn’t even have a ball...

Mona is giving Craig’s dumb date a try and, after five minutes, she is soooooo bored. The hockey guys seems to be just skating around with sticks? It’s hard to even follow the black speck on the screen that is the sportsball ball substitute.

The refs or umpires or whatever they are called blow a whistle and Craig snarls, taking a big swig of his beer.

“What happened?”

“Off-sides call. It’s bullshit!”

“Off-sides?”

Craig explains the rule. It sounds like a stupid rule. “So, if the offense gets past the defense, they get a punishment? That sounds like quitter rules! It’s the defense’s fault for not keeping up!”

Craig looks... uncomfortable for a few moments. He finishes his bottle, then shakes the empty at Mona. “Go get me a refill.”

Glad to get out of the living room, Mona uses the excuse to check with Ophie. The plan is underway. The special guest is prepping the bedroom as they speak. Ophie even has another beer for Craig. Mona sighs, “Do I have to go back there?” Mona’s stomach growls.

“I mean, he is your date for tonight. Maybe ask him what his dinner plan is?”

Mona trudges back to the living room. Craig is staring intently at the game, a hand held out as if he expects her to just put the bottle directly in his hand. “Craig,” Mona asks, “what’s the dinner plan?”

“You’re holding it.”

Mona hands off the beer, then walks back to the dining area. “His plan is beer for dinner. Obviously, that’s not going to work for the diet and… Do I really need to go back in there?”

“We can text Ootah, Gaia, and Kevin?”

“I don’t want to bother them with this. He’s being neglectful, not abusive. And, given the plan, I don’t want to make them have to sit through it. If I invite them up, they have to stay overnight, right?”

Ophie nods. “That is more than fair. An orgy is a little much for Week 2. How about we make some food and I call some of my moms up that are bound to be on standby for Craig shenanigans anyways and we figure out something to do?”

Mona nods. “I’m feelin’... bulgogi burritos. Can we do that and stay in my diet?”

Ophie gives her a thumbs up and they head to the kitchen. Okay. We just need to survive until the fun part of the date begins!

Winter

Winter follows the vicious vixen, amused by the idea of her (of all people) taking him out on a date. This date is bound to be ludicrous. He can’t wait.

Mama Mattie is already waiting for them at the firing range, smirking. Tegan growls and seems insistent on just ignoring her, but Winter wasn’t raised to be that rude. “Evening, Mama. How goes my new baby sisters?”

“You know, no missing fingers or toes. Acting like newborns, so eating, napping, and pooping. Surprised to see you here, Kiddo. Especially with Ire Bags for company. Lose a bet or something?”

Tegan snarls and keeps walking in a huff. Winter speaks up loud enough for the kitsune to hear, “Mother, please don’t antagonize my date for the evening.” With a wink to convey no hard feelings, he sashays over to the line.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tegan grumbles.

“What? Defend your honor? You’re right; I didn’t have to do it. I chose to. So, what are we doing here?”

Tegan shrugs, drawing her bow from her inventory, “Being on a date?”

Winter watches her draw an arrow, nock it, then fire at a statue of a goblin, which, he supposes, is the one that bought her the itchy room effect. It is an excellent shot. Winter especially enjoys how her breasts are displayed. Just because he prefers guys does not mean he can’t appreciate the tall, busty fox-girl’s body. Now, if only she had a good personality to match it...

Tegan: -5 BP (Samson statue twin pack)

A sad thought comes to mind. Winter cannot help but vocalize it, “Do you even know how to date?”

The fox tails flare with irritation. She snarls as she shoots, this time at the Shar statue. “What kind of question is that?”

After making a brief mental note to thank Shar for Tegan’s titanic tits, Winter declares, “A good one. Seriously, how many dates have you been on? Because this is a terrible date for an Eilistraee worshiper. I know I don’t wear my faith on my sleeve or anything but...”

Tegan interrupts, “And what is wrong with a date to the range? I like the range...”

“I’m not as hardcore about it than Mama Skye is, but using a bow is considered blasphemous to The Lady. So, bringing me to the range would be like bringing Gaia to a steakhouse.”

Tegan still bristles, “Well, that’s stupid! Why would it be wrong to use a bow?”

“Technically, it is sinful to ever miss with a ranged attack, but...” Winter tells the tale. How The Lady’s mother tried to use her to kill her father with a magic quiver that draws projectiles to hit the wearer instead of wherever they were aimed. How the plan nearly worked as the Elven gods went to war against the orcs.

Tegan remains unimpressed. “Again, that’s a stupid story. Why make up something like that? Dummies.”

“The gods may have abandoned your world, but they are real and active here, Tegan.”

Tegan snorts, “Yeah, right. Next you’ll tell me that my world is actually in peril and the show’s premise isn’t a lie.” She fires again, hitting the goblin statue square on the nose.

Winter is annoyed but can at least barely tolerate how suicidally dismissive his date is. He changes the subject, “Back to the other question. How many dates have you had?”

Tegan sounds much smaller as she asks, “Does this one count?”

“For the sake of argument, sure,” Winter relents. This is going to be a sad answer, huh?

Tegan does not disappoint, awkwardly muttering, “Two?” followed up with a kind of nervous laughter.

“So, this and your piggyback date last week?”

She lets out another awkward tittering, then a questioning, “Yes?”

Winter leans back against a post, bluntly asking, “Why?”

Tegan gets back to her usual aggressive demeanor, snarling, “Because I have a fiancée and I wasn’t going to cheat on her.”

“Then why ask me out to this obviously spur of the moment thing? Isn’t what we are doing right now cheating?”

“No!” Tegan accusingly denies, “This isn’t cheating. This is a non-cheating date done under coercion from a freak goblin. And, anyways, you are safe.”

Safe? Me? He stands back up. “What do you mean by that?”

“You won’t upset my parents, maybe? I don’t know...”

With that, Winter is finally about ready to wrap this up. “Look, Tegan, I can tell that you’re not into me. Dates are supposed to be about finding out whether initial attraction can become something more. This... whatever this is... isn’t going to work out. I’m going to...”

Tegan begs, “Please... stay... I am just so tired of the itching...”

Winter sighs. I did agree to humor her. Maybe this’ll appease the goblin? “Fine. I’ll stay. You can tell me what your plan for Mona tomorrow is going to look like. You have thought about it, right?”

The look on Tegan’s face indicates that she hasn’t. Winter sighs again. She’s hopeless. “Okay. Let’s talk about how to properly construct a date. You want your time with Mona tomorrow to go well, right?”

“She’s my fiancée; of course I want tomorrow to go well.”

“Well, the first thing you need to figure out is what is something you BOTH enjoy doing. Any ideas?”

So, they start to plot out some ideas for Tegan to use for tomorrow. All in all, this is tedious, not ludicrous.