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"Eat pant, Conar!"
Connor rolls his eyes at Schlatt's hysteric laughter, watching with a blank expression as the sheep hybrid repeats the phrase to himself quietly.
"It's really not that funny, man." Connor says. He crosses his arms, and he huffs in indignation, which just amuses Schlatt even more.
"Lighten up, Con," Schlatt says through his laughter, and he turns and stretches his arms out to gesture at the melon statue. "It's just a silly prank."
Connor thinks it hardly resembles a pair of pants at all, but what does he know about building? Most of his shit was contracted from Luemas anyways.
(Not to mention the time he decided glass was the best option he could use to tower up to toss some planks to Schlatt while they were working on their coffee shop. He mentally cringes at the memory – embarrassing!)
"I'm not offended," and he emphasizes the word offended, "I just don't see the humor in this. Like, you're just saying my name wrong, dumbass."
"Sure thing, Conar."
The sheep hybrid ruffles Connor's hair, and he groans in irritation, pushing the taller away as he wraps an arm over his shoulder.
But still, the man's laughter is infectious, and he can't help but join in his giggle fest. He's not sure why, but it seems impossible to stay mad with Schlatt for very long – it's like he has a natural ability to lighten the mood.
———
"Hey, sugar pumpkin, don't be like that," Schlatt calls as Quackity continues to walk away without as much as peeking back at him. He's so clearly upset, and Schlatt can't figure out what the hell he's done wrong. "I was just joking!"
"I don't care," Quackity says bluntly.
Schlatt clenches his fist in irritation, but he doesn't move, and he takes a deep breath.
(Why the hell does he act like this? Can't even take a joke, he thinks. All I said was "Flatty Patty".)
Schlatt's always teased his second-in-command – no malice, he just finds amusement in pushing the buttons of those he cares about, watching closely, mentally making notes of where the line is drawn and how they react.
Quackity is new to him. He doesn't tolerate any of it, and it's a culture shock to the sheep hybrid – born and raised in SMPLive, where playful teasing is a cultural norm.
He just doesn't get it, he thinks, because he doesn't want to admit maybe he should just stop. He'll get used to it.
So Schlatt continues to poke fun at Quackity's flaws, pushing his boundaries and ignoring the increasingly hostile reactions. And over time, his comments start to become less playful and more earnest, as he comes to view the backlash as a threat to his power.
(This will have lasting consequences that he can't even begin to imagine, as he continues to strain his relationship with the vice president further.)
———
When Quackity sees the man standing in front of him – a hybrid around his height, tired-looking, his somewhat scruffy appearance contrasting the neatly fitting suit he's wearing, and the thing that bothers Quackity the most, that damn blue tie – he isn't sure how to react.
It's like he's looking at a mirror image of himself back in Manberg.
He feels a little sick at the sight, in all honesty.
"Hi there!" The man greets Quackity nervously, his right ear twitching curiously. "Uh, the name is Connor."
And Quackity would be a liar if he said that wasn't a name that he both immediately recognized and made his blood run cold.
He shouldn't react rudely to this stranger, since he's given him no reason to, but he's wary regardless.
"Hello," he responds, and his voice is cold – colder than intended, but whatever. "I'm Quackity."
———
Schlatt is writing a letter when Quackity approaches him. He can't make out the words, but he'd feel bad poking into his life anyways. He just met the man, after all.
"You wanted to see me?" The duck hybrid asks, a single eyebrow raised.
Schlatt looks up from the paper and turns to him. "Yes, hello."
"As you know, neither of us alone stands any chance against Wilbur. I wanted to make an offer to you," the sheep hybrid says calmly.
"An offer?" Quackity asks. "What's in it for me?"
———
SMPLive's church-turned-courthouse is really not all that impressive – the edges of the sandstone walls seem to jutt out at odd angles, the various mismatched varieties of wood clash, and the gaudy purple carpet that lines the walkway between the seats is enough to give Connor a headache.
And don't even get me started on the fucking EthosLab window mural. Tackiest shit I've ever fucking seen, Connor thinks.
He wonders why he's even bothering with this, to be completely honest, as Schlatt glares at him out of the corner of his eye.
"Your honor, if I may," the sheep hybrid speaks, and is met with the loud thump of the judge's gavel.
The cow hybrid looks down at him with a stern look, and Schlatt quiets down immediately.
"Be patient, Jebediah Schlatt," Ted says. "You'll have the right to defend yourself soon enough."
Connor shoots Schlatt a smug look, but it's quickly wiped off his face as Schlatt drags a finger across his neck, shooting Connor a death glare from the other end of the room.
"Connor," Ted turns to him, "tell your side of the story, please."
"I was scammed!" Connor exclaims. "That damn bastard told me 20 diamonds for his stupid coin, and instead all I got was him mocking me. When I discovered where he stashed everything, I did what any reasonable person would do and destroyed the contents in lava."
"How in the fucking world is that reasonable?" Schlatt interjects, his tone strained with irritation.
"Schlatt," Ted repeats, and the other man silences himself immediately. "Look, if you two are going to waste my time..."
"It's not a waste of time!" Connor and Schlatt interrupt at the same time.
"Right. Okay."
———
Connor's hands are shaking, holding a letter.
"Have you seen my partner anywhere?" He asks in a quiet, anxious voice.
Quackity looks down. "I need a name, man, I don't know you."
(He knows. But he's just going to hope he's wrong somehow.)
"Jebediah Schlatt," Connor answers. "He said there was an election going on here, and I haven't seen him in months, I'm very worried..."
(Of fucking course. It would have been so much easier if it was someone else, but the world hates making things easy for Quackity.)
———
"I got a letter from Wilbur," Schlatt hums as his eyes scan the words on the page. "Something about an election. Might go, sounds like fun."
Connor looks up from his desk and raises an eyebrow. "An election? For what?"
"Presidential, apparently. Some country called L'Manberg in the middle of bumfuck nowhere." Schlatt laughs when he says this, and it's obvious what he thinks of the whole thing. "He must be desperate if he's coming to me for help, hell, I'd hardly even call us proper friends."
"Are you gonna go?"
"Sure, why not?" Schlatt responds. "You wanna tag along?"
"Hm," Connor thinks for a moment. "Nah, someone's gotta keep an eye on shit around here."
———
"I'm afraid Jebediah Schlatt is... No longer with us," Quackity says after a while, sighing.
Connor looks at him in complete silence. It's almost as if he didn't even process the words.
"Oh." His voice shakes, and Quackity can tell he's about to cry.
"I'm s–"
"Can you take me to his grave at least?" The hedgehog hybrid interrupts Quackity before he can continue. "Please..."
"Okay." Quackity nods. "Sure."
He doesn't bother to tell the man about his own, deeply strained relationship with the late president. He doesn't need to know – it's likely the Schlatt he knew was completely different to the one Quackity did.
Instead, he leads him to Schlatt's grave in silence.