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Fundy walked into Quackity’s office, everything so neat, Glass windows as walls showing the beautiful night view. And shelves of books and booze that are more expensive than college tuition. The room smelled of earthy vanilla smoke.
Quackity peered up from his stack of sheets, taking a drag of his cigarette. Holding the stick between his fingers, he blew out the smoke casually as he held his pen in his dominant hand. “You need something, Fundy?” Quackity asked, raising a brow. “Well, my da- I mean Wilbur is here.” He explained, Fundy could already watch Quackity’s expression sour. “he says it is important, it’s about Ranboo.”
Quackity gritted his teeth, his first instinct was to shoo Wilbur off. He didn’t care about Ranboo; he wasn’t one of his men. But why did something feel off? “Damn it, that motherfucker! Let him in.” Quackity waved Fundy off with the hand that held his pen.
Fundy skidded off to retrieve the older man.
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Wilbur walked in with a grim face, a depressing aura seeping out of him.
“What do you want, Soot?” Quackity asked with a harsh tone, “You better not have-” before Quackity could rant, words cut the air like a knife.
“Quackity, Ranboo is dead.”
Quackity’s eyes widened slightly before turning into a dull, somber expression. He knew Wilbur was close to Ranboo, He, although, treated him like a puppet to toy with. Using him for his own benefits, but he knew they were close friends, at least. That still gave no excuse for his actions. It reminded him of slime, and how close he was.
“Guess you know how it is to lose someone close to you.” Quackity took another huff of the cigarette.
“Can I be real with you, Big Q? you know what fucks with me on top of all of that?” He gave out a shaky breath and an uneasy grin. As if he was bordering on breaking down or losing the last piece of sanity he had.
“What?”
“He’s a ghost now,” Wilbur dropped.
Quackity felt himself tense up. Last time he saw a ghost, it was of the man before him, and his ex.
“Do you have any experiences with ghosts, Quackity?” Wilbur asked, gazing up at the man sitting at the desk. Still standing before him, as if he stood in front of a king.
“I don’t know, you were one for a while.” Quackity shot back, seemingly unsympathetically.
“Wasn’t Schlatt a ghost?” Wilbur asked with seemingly harmless curiosity, his hands still in the pockets of his coat. Quackity gritted his teeth, he put out his cigarette. All for what he could know. That slimy bastard just wanted a reaction out of him. “shut the fuck up” he hissed back, “quackity, please” Wilbur sounded desperate.
Silence filled the air for a moment.
“god damn it” Quackity slid a chair over to the side of his desk, then pulled out two shot glasses. They clinked as he placed them down, Soon, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “What are you doing, Quackity?” Wilbur asked, raising a brow
Out of confusion. “never took you for a drinker.” he let out a chuckle, however it was melancholic. “I don’t want to be sober for this fucking conversation,” Quackity spat out, glaring at Wilbur as he poured the bottle into the shot glasses. Immediately swigging up one glass, and poured another when he finished. “are you going to fucking stand there? Or are you gonna sit your ass down?” Quackity asked, “ok, ok, I’m coming” Wilbur walked over and sat down by Quackity. It almost felt like they were more like friends than enemies right now.
“and yes, he was a ghost, and he was very dangerous’’ Quackity hated this topic with all his guts, he wished he was the one to kill Schlatt. “how about slime?’’ Wilbur asked, slime was still a fresh wound on Quackity. “no, he was never a ghost, slimes don’t- well I don’t know." quackity took another shot as Wilbur lifted the glass and carefully sipped it.
“Do you want to see Ranboo?” Wilbur asked, glancing up at Quackity. “I don’t fucking know!? If it makes your sappy ass feel better than maybe,” Quackity shot back. “Alright then, let’s go ghost hunting.”