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3am, and Kyle was still awake, still thinking about Cartman in the park wearing that dumb bunny costume, sniffling and pleading for Kyle to help him... before being an ignorant asshole, like always. Kyle was actually considering helping him, figured he had learned his lesson, but then he had to go and ruin it for himself with his offensive remarks. That justification was what kept Kyle sane the whole walk home, it was what let him enjoy his dinner and the time spent with his family celebrating Passover. That was way more important than helping his bigoted, idiotic 'friend' who wouldn't even offer to help Kyle if the roles were reversed. No, he'd just laugh and revel in his misfortune, and propose some terrible deal in exchange for helping Kyle out, which would most likely leave Kyle in a far worse position...
He rolled onto his back and sighed, looking up at the plain ceiling.
He wished he could be so sure of that justification now. Lying wide awake, in his dark, silent room it all rang a little hollow... a little bitter, and mean, because even if this was yet another mess Cartman had got himself into, Kyle had taken no pleasure in seeing him chained up in the park, frightened and miserable. A part of Kyle was frustrated that he couldn't muster up any... what was it called? A fancy, German word... Schadenfreude! Yes, he was annoyed he didn't feel any schadenfreude when he saw Cartman in the park, because after all the shit Cartman had put him through, he felt he deserved to enjoy his misery. It was karmic payback an otherwise ambivalent universe was handing to him... but Kyle never took the opportunity when it was presented to him. Instead, whenever Cartman was distraught, or distressed, Kyle was filled with involuntary pity, some innate urge to protect him like he was some small helpless thing... and maybe that was because sometimes that's all Kyle saw when he looked at Cartman. He knew Cartman's weaknesses as well as he knew his manipulations even if Kyle had been unable to discern them from time to time. But that was his stupid heart getting the better of him.
The heart that had comforted Cartman when he caught him crying in a hospital corridor, the heart that had believed Cartman was being sincere and mature for once when he wished things were cool between them after having not been invited to his birthday party... the heart that wanted Kyle to leave his house in the early hours of the morning and rescue him from a fucking park.
Scowling, he rolled over again, trying to find a comfortable spot so he could finally get some sleep.
Kyle liked to think of himself as compassionate, liked to think of himself as somebody who would always help people in need, who had a soft spot for the neglected and the vulnerable. He felt like there was some crossed wires in his brain for him to ever look at Cartman and see those two things... or maybe years of knowing Cartman meant also knowing that some things had happened to him that he was too young, and unsure to understand, years that meant he would always call him his friend. Even if that friend often exploited that instinct Kyle possessed that he knew was good. Cartman would never take that away from him. Hell, if Cartman kept getting himself into situations like these, then Kyle wouldn't have to worry about it going anywhere, whether he liked it or not.
Rolling his eyes, he threw back the covers and got out of bed. He was still pissed that he was doing this, but his heart felt lighter already. He grabbed his coat from his closet door, and as he slipped it on he noticed a blue blanket folded up neatly on top of some shoe boxes. He grabbed that too, figuring it was going to be a cold walk back for Cartman.
He may even have hypothermia.
Kyle prickled at the thought, and tried to shove it to the back of his mind. He couldn't think too much right now, just do. He slowly opened his bedroom door, peering out into the hallway just in case his mom or dad were making a trip to the bathroom. The coast was clear, and he crept down the hallway and down the stairs, feeling a lot more at ease in the living room.
In the kitchen, he switched the light on and pulled up a chair so he could shove his winter boots on and lace them up. It felt odd wearing them with his pyjama bottoms, and the material seemed to balloon over the tops of his boots. When he caught his reflection in the French windows he did indeed look like MC Hammer. He grimaced, before venturing into the basement, praying that he hadn't been imagining his dad owning a pair of bolt cutters.
He had no idea where to start looking. He began rooting around his dad's desk, but found nothing but stationery, glue, and small pieces of equipment his dad used to make his ships in bottles. He pulled out cardboard boxes, damp with age and fluffy with dust and coughed at the ancient particles that burst into the air when he opened them. But he found nothing except Hanukkah decorations, exercise equipment, a projector, and some miniature harness that creeped Kyle out and he was going to pretend he never saw. Finally, behind one box of his old toys he found the bolt cutters.
The cutters felt heavy in his hand, but by the time he had climbed the stairs he was starting to get used to the weight. He clicked the basement door shut gently behind him, and snatched a house key from the cabinet in the living room.
Thankfully, it had stopped snowing and the night sky was breaking like ice over a lake, revealing grey, shimmering daylight beneath. Kyle pressed the blanket close to his chest as he walked to the park. It was another layer of protection against the cold. He felt his heart thumping beneath the thick, plush material and put its heavy, anxious beat down to the adrenaline of the situation, his lack of sleep... his grip now felt a little slippery on the bolt cutters.
At least it was a peaceful walk. He thought it would be far more eerie walking through the dozing town, but he supposed he could appreciate the silence when South Park was usually so weird and chaotic. The park was a little creepier, probably because Cartman had been so convinced that the Jewpacabra was going to get him there. Even if Kyle knew it was bullshit, Cartman had been so scared that it was natural Kyle felt uneasy. At least that's what he was blaming the clammy chill at the nape of his neck and his stomach twisting in knots on.
Following the path he took before, he soon found Cartman curled up on the ground. His bunny outfit was matted, streaked with pale green grass stains, and crusty, burgundy blood. He didn't turn around at the sound of rustling, at the sound of grass crunching underfoot as Kyle approached him. He must have been sleeping.
"Nooo..." Cartman murmured.
It made Kyle flinch, before he realised he was indeed sleeping... albeit very fitfully. But at least he was sleeping, at all! Kyle hadn't been afforded that luxury tonight.
Nooo...." he murmured again, twitching this time. His brow was creased.
Kyle frowned, he must have been dreaming about some pretty intense stuff. He was shivering too, his whimpers sounding more pathetic through his chattering teeth. Kyle placed the blanket over him, and felt his body shudder a little more violently, as if it were surprised by this sudden warmth draped over him. He waited for Cartman to mellow a little bit before he went to work on cutting the chain tethering him. Kyle had never used bolt cutters before, and he hoped Cartman didn't have any more vivid, disturbing dreams that made him lash out on his sleep.
Using the bolt cutters was surprisingly easy, and the cold, thick metal came away with a loud, satisfying din. Kyle grinned to himself, impressed with his work, but soon looked to Cartman to see if the sound had woken him. But he was still asleep, mouth agape and breathing heavy. Kyle wondered how the hell he could sleep so heavily considering the circumstances, but soon noticed a large, syringe looking object lying on the ground beside him... it reminded him of being backstage at a Jonas Brothers concert, with a similar object sticking out of his neck, only that one was a lot smaller. A tranquilizer dart? Why would they need to use that on Cartman? Wasn't it enough they were using him as a sacrifice for something that didn't even fucking exist, traumatising him and leaving him out here in the freezing cold because they were too stupid to fact check something a nine year old child told them? Kyle's face felt hot with anger, and his chest burned with that protective instinct. He had to get out of there. He had to get them both out of there.
"Come on..." he muttered, scooping Cartman up.
He was a floppy, shivering deadweight in Kyle's arms, and he huffed and stumbled as he tried to get him onto his feet. Kyle was panting by the time he finally managed to get Cartman standing, droopy and comatose though he was. Kyle fixed the blanket around his shoulders, and fitted Cartman's hands into little fists so he could clutch it as they walked home... well, Kyle walked home. Cartman was going to have to be dragged, and Kyle grumbled at the thought. Still, he supposed this would be the most pliable and agreeable Cartman would ever be, so he should relish the opportunity while he could. He wrapped his arm around Cartman's shoulder and tugged their bodies close together. If he did indeed have hypothermia, he was going to need all the warmth he could get.
It was a longer walk home, lumbering and clumsy, but still peaceful nonetheless, with Cartman's laboured breathing to keep him company. Occasionally, he would stir and whimper. Kyle would rub his shoulder and shush him and he would fall back into deep, foggy sleep. Kyle had no idea why he didn't want Cartman to wake up. Perhaps because he feared Cartman would be so disorientated upon waking, upon seeing Kyle, that he would have a panic attack Kyle had no idea how to calm down... or maybe because he feared what Cartman would do with this information. The juicy, delectable realisation that Kyle actually cared about him. Given the present situation, Kyle couldn't very well deny it now, and he knew Cartman was opportunistic enough to hold that information over his head. Theirs was a precarious dynamic, and Kyle felt like it was slipping from his fingers with every step he took.
When they reached Cartman's house, Kyle was exhausted, and sweating despite the early morning chill. He couldn't wait to crash into bed and finally get some sleep, but he had to get Cartman inside his own house first. He tried the door, his stomach sinking when he realised it would of course be locked.
"God damn it..." he muttered.
He knocked the door hard, once, twice, five times but there was stil no answer. He growled under his breath, eyes searching the door as if another way in was written in small print in the wood. He glanced at Cartman, still unconscious. He often came and went as he pleased, it wasn't crazy to think that his mom would leave a key for him. Kyle gave him a small nudge.
"Would your mom leave a key for you, huh?"
He sighed when he realised he wouldn't get an answer out of Cartman, and studying him warily, he began to slide him out of his grip so he could search for a key Miss Cartman may have left. He was afraid Cartman would fall, but instead he just swayed, head lolled, sleeping standing up like a horse. Kyle smiled, snickered to himself before he remembered the task at hand. He crouched down, overturning various plant pots on the porch, until he found the key under a pot decorated with crudely painted cats. Peering closer, he noticed that written in the bottom corner of the pot were the words, "Love, Eric" in a thick, gloopy scrawl. Kyle felt his smile stretch across his face, and he rolled the plant pot in his hand as if it were an alien artefact.
He was snapped out of his daze by Cartman making a soft, groggy sound above him. He got to his feet and opened the door, leading Cartman inside. He felt a little weird switching on the lights in someone else's house when he definitely wasn't invited - not to mention there was a possibility that the bright light would wake Cartman up - but he had to see where he was going. Cartman grumbled again, but remained asleep. Kyle's relief was short-lived however, when he realised he would have to climb the stairs to get Cartman to bed. He almost sunk to the floor in despair. This was enough, wasn't it? He got Cartman out of the park, got him to his house, got him inside where it was safe and warm... wasn't it enough to leave him on the couch? But Kyle had almost drowned trying to save Cartman before, stairs were nothing, right? He hadn't come this far to just give up at the last hurdle.
Pursing his lips and taking an encouraging breath through his nose, Kyle dragged Cartman over to the stairs. They took it one step at a time, with gentle coaxing from Kyle that he was unsure Cartman could even hear... maybe it was just some strange, subconscious muscle memory that got them up the stairs. Kyle was panting when they reached the top, leading Cartman to his bedroom.
Once inside, Kyle switched a lamp on, and kicked Cartman's crumpled pyjamas out of the way to guide him to his bed.
"There you go..." he panted, hoisting him up onto the mattress.
He was sitting somewhat upright, but with his shoulders and head drooping.
He knelt down to untie Cartman's laces, but hadn't even taken one shoe off before he felt something warm and wet land on his head. When he looked up, he saw a long slither of drool hanging from Cartman's parted lips.
"Argh, fucking gross!" Kyle grumbled, not even bothering with the other laces and pulling Cartman's shoes off his feet before he could fall on top of him, or drool on him some more.
But instead of falling on top of him, Cartman fell backwards. The springs of his mattress squeaked in protest. After wiping the drool off his hat with Cartman's comforter, Kyle tucked Cartman's legs under the duvet and pulled it further up his body. He tried to sigh as quietly as he possibly could, but it still felt like the biggest breath he had ever taken, expelling all his anxiety, and guilt, and frustration. This long gruelling night had all been worth it to see Cartman - crooked bunny ears and all - snoring in his bed, oblivious and safe. Kyle smiled, lips pressed tightly together.
"Good night, Cartman..." he whispered, slightly giddy and incredibly exhausted.
The corner of Cartman's mouth twitched, soon stretching into a lethargic smile. He snuggled into the pillow, as if he realised he was home. Kyle bit the inside of his cheek to contain his grin, too amused by the sight to leave just yet. But Cartman was blinking now, grumbling and stirring. Kyle couldn't move, as if Cartman's squinting, disorientated gaze had frozen him to the spot.
"Kyle?" he rasped.
"Shit!"
The one word that seemed to break the spell. Kyle crouched down, reaching for his dad's bolt cutters and making a beeline for the door.
"Kyle..." Cartman groaned, still confused, half-awake. "What are you... doing..."
"N-n-nothing!" Kyle spluttered. He rolled his eyes, body sagging with embarrassment as he attempted to back out of the room. "You're... dreaming!"
"I am?"
"Uh-huh!" Kyle squeaked, switching Cartman's lamp off and dashing out of the room before he could protest.
He somehow found the energy to run home, feet fuelled by adrenaline. His hand was shaking as he tried to unlock his front door. He raced up the stairs, abandoning the bolt cutters on his floor as he crawled into bed. His mind was whirring too fast, his heart pounding too hard to fall asleep.
After a few deep breaths, after he had told himself a hundred times that he had successfully convinced Cartman he was dreaming, that he was too out of it to know the difference, after he had finally worn himself out... he realised he had left his blanket in Cartman's bed.
Kyle missed the beginning of the Easter egg hunt. He had barely slept at all, and felt like a zombie as he entered the park. The only thing he could register was an acute anxiety lurching inside him at the all too familiar surroundings. He tried to blend into the crowd, watching his friends scramble on the ground for Easter eggs, and hit each other over the head with their baskets so they could snatch as many eggs as possible. It was a funny enough spectacle to take his mind off Cartman, but he still couldn't help but search for him in the brawl. Surely, Kyle thought, he would be the most obnoxious and ruthless Easter egg-hunter of them all.
"I'm alive! I'm alive, you guys!"
Kyle froze, a shiver rolling down his spine at the sound of Cartman's voice. Everybody had stopped to look at him as he ran through the park.
"I don't know how, but I'm alive!" he exclaimed in some poor girl's face, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Can you believe it? It's a miracle!"
Kyle watched in astonishment as Cartman climbed on to the stage, and realised it would be the perfect place for a humiliation. Kyle gulped, skin prickling. Still, Cartman seemed aw-struck rather than goading, like he had news he was genuinely delighted to share, and not for the sole purpose of making Kyle suffer. What did he say to that girl... that he didn't know how he survived last night. He called it a miracle?
"Listen everybody, last night I almost died. But then a Passover miracle happened. The Jewpacabra passed me over, and by the power of Jehovah, I somehow woke up safely in my bed. I learned a big lesson..." Cartman nodded, looking over the crowd with a humbled smile. "It's wrong, guys. Christ didn't die for our sins, and God is angry. It's time for us all to stop this Easter ridiculousness, accept Jehovah as our God, and deny Christ."
Kyle thought he had taken the biggest, most relieved sigh he could ever take last night. But it was nothing compared to the shaky, elated breath that escaped his lips now. He looked around the silent, unconvinced crowd.
"Oh stop tryin' to ruin Easter, ya... ya heathen!" Butters yelled.
The crowd rumbled in agreement, and Kyle winced at Cartman's crestfallen face. It was a little funny admittedly, how naive Cartman was, but Kyle didn't really have it in him to laugh.
"Hey, guys, listen!" he cried, in a last-ditch attempt to rally the crowd over to his cause. But they were already dispersing, eager to get back to the hunt.
Kyle pursed his lips, content to join the crowd again, or maybe find Stan and Kenny. Perhaps he could really enjoy the day now that paranoid weight had been lifted, leaving him to feel incredibly lighter. But it was an unusual lightness, a too-good-to-be-true lightness. In fact, it felt more like emptiness. Did he really want Cartman to be none the wiser as to how he got home last night? It was startling, and as Kyle wandered back to the crowd, trying to shake off that unnerving feeling, he heard footsteps behind him, and a familiar sigh.
"I finally know how you feel, Kyle, knowing your religion is right but being laughed at by everyone else." Cartman looked up to the sky, voice soft and weary. "It's so hard for us Jews... but I guess we just have to let stupid people believe what they're gonna believe."
Kyle nodded, still reeling and in disbelief this was actually happening.
"Yeah..."
"I-I know what you're thinking, Kyle. But I really do believe in Judaism now, I'm not lying!"
Kyle placed a hand on Cartman's shoulder, secretly hoping it would rouse some kind of memory from last night. But Cartman still seemed as oblivious as ever.
"I know you're not..." Kyle said, resigned.
Cartman smiled, and Kyle could feel his body relax under his palm.
"Cool, thanks, Kyle!"
Kyle watched him walk away, but he soon looked over his shoulder. He was still smiling.
"Oh, and Kyle? Happy Passover."
"Happy Passover, Cartman," Kyle replied, voice flat.
He didn't really feel like talking, and he thought that would be the end of the conversation. But Cartman still stood there, smiling. He reminded Kyle of a creepy doll in a horror movie, with a blank, painted smile and eyes that were hiding something.
"Dude, what?"
Cartman blinked, his smile wilting.
"Wh-what?"
"You were staring at me..."
Cartman flushed, the accusation seemed to strike him like lightning.
"No, I wasn't!"
Kyle scoffed.
"Yeah, you were!" he frowned, stepping forward. "What's up?"
"Nothing! I... I-I gotta go..." he blustered, before practically scurrying away.
Kyle stared after him, that anxious feeling rising inside him all over again.
That anxious feeling stayed with him all day, even when Cartman disappeared. Especially when Cartman disappeared. He tried to take his mind off it by hanging out with Stan and Kenny, but it was no use. He was fixated on Cartman's speech in the park, and his persistent stare, and had spent the rest of the day fretting over how much knowledge Cartman had of last night's events... and if it would be such a bad thing if he knew. Kyle was wondering if just confessing all would be the way for him to have the upper hand, get rid of the unsettling feeling in his stomach, or at the very least let him have a good night's sleep.
It was approaching midnight and he was still tossing and turning. He huffed, rolling onto his side and tugging the duvet further up his body. He would sleep well tonight even if it killed him. His eyes drifted shut, and he tried to push any Cartman-related thoughts to the back of his mind. But he froze when he heard unusual tapping at his window. Cold air crept in the room, and he turned over in alarm only to find Cartman actually climbing through his fucking window.
He was halfway in, Kyle's glare and scowl must have rendered him still.
"Oh..." he whispered, as if this was the most normal turn of events in the world. "Hey, Kyle..."
"Cartman! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
Kyle wished he could yell, but a furious whisper would have to do if he didn't want to wake his parents and make this situation a thousand times worse.
"I thought you'd be asleep..." Cartman replied, raising his voice a little.
"That isn't an answer!"
"Could you give me a hand?"
Kyle blinked, still processing what was happening.
"No!" he said, sitting up and shoving Cartman away from him. "No, get the fuck out!"
"Wait!" Cartman yelped, eyes wide and fingers paling as he gripped onto the window pane. "Your blanket! I have your blanket, asshole!"
Kyle pulled back. He felt like he had been kicked in the stomach, the realisation winding him.
"What... what are you talking about..."
He helped Cartman in begrudgingly, because his desire for what exactly Cartman knew outweighed his desire for him to get the hell out of his room.
If he's bluffing I'll kick his ass.
Cartman was panting a little, however the hell he managed to get to Kyle's window must have been a tiring endeavour. He smoothed down his clothes, and Kyle watched as he calmly slid his backpack off his shoulders and rested it on the edge of the bed. It was so silent in the room that the sound of the zipper being undone felt deafening. But when Cartman pulled that damn blanket out of his backpack, the sound of Kyle's heart pounding in his ears was a worthy opponent.
"I think you left this at my house last night..." Cartman said with an evil grin. The type of grin that made Kyle feel ridiculous for even considering that Cartman knowing what happened last night may not be such a bad thing.
"Wh...I... I-I wasn't at your house last night-"
"Yes, you were!"
"No!" Kyle said, shaking, but stubborn as ever. "That blanket isn't even mine!"
Cartman rolled his eyes, amused and exasperated.
"I know it's yours, Kyle! It..." Cartman glanced at the blanket in his hands. "I-i-it smells like you..."
Kyle's nose wrinkled a little when Cartman held the blanket to his chest, his arms drawing slightly around it.
"And I saw you in my room," Cartman continued, smug. "You tried to convince me I was dreaming... like the sneaky butthole you are."
Kyle's mouth clamped shut, smothered by embarrassment. He had never felt like this before. He willed his mouth to open, he was dying to speak when Cartman was practically giddy in front of him.
"I..." he squeaked. "I... um..."
Cartman chuckled, he was stil petting the blanket.
"It's okay, Kyle. I know how much you care about me."
Kyle's jaw dropped a little.
"What?"
Cartman was nodding, with a wide grin.
"First, there was the time you saved me from appearing on Dateline and embarrassing myself on national television-"
"I stopped you because I didn't want your vile, racist remarks getting on TV!"
Cartman rolled his eyes.
"Sure you did, Kyle... and now this! What other possible explanation is there than that you actually care about me?"
Kyle's eyes searched the carpet, like there was an explanation in the fibres. He couldn't very well turn to his mind right now, it was being drowned out by his stupid, impulsive heart screaming how much he did actually care, despite himself.
"Wuh-well... I... I actually have a conscience, for one thing! You know, I couldn't just leave you - I mean, anybody! - um, trapped alone in a park all night without doing something about it-"
"Keep telling yourself that, Kyle," Cartman cut in, cool, and calm, and not really listening. "I, for one, won't say a word."
Kyle blinked, reeling. Did he even hear that correctly?
"You won't?"
"No, on the condition that..."
Kyle sighed, eyes slipped shut and shoulders drooping. Of course there would be a caveat, and it was Cartman, so it would be a mean, cruel caveat.
"You let me keep this blanket."
"Huh?" Kyle asked, opening his eyes and scrutinising Cartman's proposal with furrowed brows.
"I won't tell anybody what you did if you let me keep the blanket," Cartman repeated clearly, chin raised.
"Seriously?"
Cartman's jaw tightened, and in the dim light of his bedroom Kyle saw a red flush crawl up his neck. The tips of his ears seemed to be burning.
"Yeah!" he snapped, fidgety. "You've stolen enough shit from me, so I think I should get to keep something of yours!"
Kyle sighed. Not this again.
"Cartman, I have never stolen anything from you. You just lose things easily because you have zero attention-"
Cartman raised his eyebrows in a way that dared Kyle to test him, and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in the beginnings of a wicked smirk, that told Kyle he would regret ever ruining this deal. For once, Kyle wasn't going to bite.
"Fine. You can keep the blanket..." he shot Cartman his own challenging, serious glare. "As long as you swear you won't tell anybody."
Cartman nodded.
"I swear to not tell anybody you rescued me from the park." He raised his hand. "Scout's honour."
Kyle smirked, and crossed his arms.
"At the last scout bake sale you stole a tray of Clyde's lemon bars from his dad's car and said a racoon had got in there."
He just had to get that one in.
Cartman scowled.
"How the hell do you even know that?"
"Stan told me."
"Fucking tattle-tale..." Cartman muttered under his breath, before giving Kyle a confident smile. "But you can trust me on this one, Kyle. I'm seriously."
"Well..." Kyle sighed, rubbing his arm almost in self-reassurance. Trusting Cartman wasn't something he was used to. "Good. Because if I find out that you've told anybody, I'm taking that blanket back."
"Alright, deal," Cartman replied, sounding a little wounded. He stroked the blanket as if the idea of being separated from it was a painful one.
Kyle watched Cartman fold the blanket up and stuff it in the backpack, and his mind dared to wonder why the hell it was so important. Cartman had said it was payback for all the items Kyle had supposedly 'stolen,' but if he was going for an "eye for an eye" sort of thing, then why not take something more valuable? Kyle would've given up a video game, or a particularly shiny toy if it meant Cartman would vow to keep his secret. Kyle supposed that maybe after getting rid of his stuffed animals, he wanted something a little softer, something comforting... but what was so comforting about a blanket Kyle had abandoned in his bed? Just like the creepy, miniature harness in the basement, Kyle wasn't going to think too much about it.
Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he noticed that Cartman had climbed onto his bed and was about to exit out the window.
"Wait! I know you're here now, idiot! You may as well use the front door. Come on..."
Cartman huffed, as if disappointed he couldn't leave the hard way, and followed Kyle down stairs. They didn't talk as Kyle unlocked the front door.
"Okay, well... good night."
Kyle nodded, hand gripping the door as Cartman brushed past him.
"Good night."
Cartman nodded too, and Kyle heard him whisper something when his back was turned.
"What was that?"
It sounded an awful lot like 'thank you.'
"Nothing! I..." Cartman sighed, rolled his eyes. "I-I just said thank you. For the blanket, and... everything."
Kyle felt like he should rip on him. But his smile was so sincere, and the feeling it brought out in Kyle was so warm and good, that he didn't want to spoil it.
"Oh..." Kyle whispered, lowering his head as his cheeks began to burn. "Okay. Don't mention it," he added, a bit more seriously.
"Oh, I won't..." Cartman grinned.