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“That’s what you get for messing with the Goat!” Doc declared. It wasn’t as menacing as he probably thought it was, judging by his smirk. It really wasn’t menacing at all, considering that he’d whispered the whole thing and Grian was just barely sure that he had understood him correctly.
“Why are we speaking like this?!” Scar whisper-shouted from beside him, eyes growing wide at the withering glare Doc sent toward him.
“Shush!” Grian and Scar exchanged glances. “It’s Doccy’s nap time, okay? You guys chose the most terrible time to activate my trap, I could barely get them to go back to sleep after that huge explosion.”
Grian narrowed his eyes at him, “I wouldn’t say it’s our fault you set up several tonnes of explosives under our base. Seems like a you problem.”
“Keep your voice down!” Doc sounded strangled now, close to just hopping down into the crater that once was the Buttercup Camp, where Grian and Scar now stood among the smoldering remains. Grian rolled his eyes as a burning piece of pink tent fabric blew past him.
“It’s not like they’ll hear us from here!” There was a pause in which Doc looked awkwardly away from the Buttercups standing in the smoking remains of their base. “Doc… You didn’t bring them here, did you?” A Hotguy poster burst into flame behind him as if to punctuate his unsaid point that the Buttercup Camp — or whatever remained of it — was not a very safe place for a child at that moment.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ve got them right here!” Doc turned slightly to the side to show off a bundle of white cloth strapped up to settle between his bright wings. Two tiny feet just barely poked through their respective gaps at the bottom. They twitched as a breeze blew over the group of them.
“Awwwh!” Scar cooed, “What are they supposed to be? Toilet paper?”
Doc gasped, turning back to properly glare at them. “Excuse me!? They’re a caterpillar in their cocoon! Soon they will wake up and become a big, pretty butterfly, just like their dad!”
“I don’t think getting in that cocoon was really a good idea if they’re just gonna become more like you…” Grian teased.
“More of a detreo— deteriot— Well, an unimprovement, anyway.”
A thin, squealing cry sounded up from inside the cocoon.
“Oh, now look what you did!”
“We can uhm… postpone this?”
“Yeah, go take care of Doccy! You can come back and gloat about your momentary victory later.”
Doc was already turned away from them, fussing with the straps holding Doccy to his back, completely missing the mischievous look that Grian threw toward Scar, even when he had to elbow the man lightly in the ribs to get his eyes off of Doccy’s adorably reddening face.
“If you insist…” he muttered, going back to cooing at Doccy as soon as he finished. He didn’t cast another glance toward Grian and Scar before taking off toward the Hall of Goat, which was probably for the best, considering that they’d already turned to sneak off and murmur amongst themselves in peace inside the remains of Grian’s old tent.