Chapter Text
“See that? It’s a sign, dear Chance!”
The words repeated in Chance’s head as he found himself hunched over the floor, meticulously carving small patterns on the white plain dice laying before him. He’d had his fair share of custom dice-making, of course—normally when the homeowner forgot gifts for their friends in their GnG group. It was a hobby, something fun and relaxing, a thing he was good at. He liked to be useful, to share things he liked. Doesn’t everyone?
He’d never made dice for another object. Obviously, most objects had no use for dice, other than Chance. He’d never really been stressed about making them. After all, the people who usually got them didn’t know him or have any expectations. He’d never usually have made a bunch of prototypes—scraps really weren’t his thing.
So this was unusual.
“Can you make me some dice?”
Parker had asked that, yesterday. The attic was musty, lint coating walls and odd objects staring at Chance every time he came up to see his friend.
…Sort-of friend.
Parker sat across from him, about to be the first appliance to request his services.
“Dice?” Chance said, startled, glancing up from the game of Sandyland on the wooden tiles. “What for?”
“The human. Yaknow, the dirty cheater with the glasses.” Parker continued the game as intently as before, the rules opened across his lap like his newborn son.
Chance’s eyes flickered back down to the game before he leaned in to stare in confusion at Parker. “You mean—”
He sighed. “Relationship dice? Don’t you have the ones you made yourself?”
“Those aren’t good enough! Theres—they aren’t weighed correctly based on our games, and the pictures are all off. C’mon, Chance, you’re my best…er…something-er! Can’t you help a lil old board game out? I know you make dice, Hector told me.”
“...something-er? What kinda—Is this because I won't let you roll for our relationshi—”
“Not relevant right now! Will you, or will you not?” Parker demanded, before his attention was lost as he triumphantly won the game, pumping his fists in the air while grinning at Chance like a loon. “See that? It’s a sign, dear Chance!”
Chance winced as the chisel nicked his finger, the blood ruining this batch of dice. Cam gladly took them, marvelling at his growing collection as Chance dejectedly grabbed a fresh square.
He didn’t know why he agreed. He found this way of relationships a terrible idea—he was all about carefulness, deep lore between two people along with a connecting sense of closure. Rolling on a dice, to decide something like a relationship, was trusting fate a little too much for his liking.
…’Suppose that's a bit hypocritical coming from an actual dice… He mentally chastised himself, trying to focus on the carving in front of him. Impossible, really, as he began zoning off, chipping at the same corner over and over, letting his thoughts flood his head yet again…
"See that? It’s a sign, dear Chance!
Another dice ruined, as he suddenly jolted the chisel into the middle of it, snapping out of his thoughts. Chance stared at it wide-eyed, before frowning and throwing it in the direction of Cam yet again.
“Trouble in Sandyland?”
A voice floated down from the vents, veined hands poking through the bars as eyes gazed down towards Chance, who’d been startled from yet-again drifting off to his mind. If the HVAC’s face were visible, it would most certainly be spread in a grin.
“Holy Crit, Hector! It’s the dead of night! That scared the hell outta me.” Chance scowled, adjusting the glasses now tilted on his face, before moving to stare at the vent again. “What do you want?”
The hands curled around the bars of the vent. “Merely checking up on you. It's been a couple of hours since your loss to the board games, and your promise afterwards, no?”
Chance stared at the pile of discarded dice towering out of the trash bin, Cam curling up on the side and dozing off. “‘Course you were listening… I-I dunno, I can’t get it right. I keep chipping off too much, or messing up the carving, or…I don’t know at this point. It’s just never right. I want him to like it.”
A sigh in the form of a cool breeze of air rushed out of the grates. “Overthinking will only lead to, as you say, a critical fail. Do you truly believe the board game will hate you if you mess up? Surely you mean more to him than that.”
“He won’t hate me. Not unless his stupid dice says so.”
“...You mean the dice you are attempting to breathe life into right now?”
A chuckle echoed in the room as Chance let out a grumble, picking out a new canvas to sketch the dice's design on. “The one and only.”
“Let yourself relax. He’ll be enamoured with any dice you give him.”
“You don’t know that.” Chance slammed the pencil in anger, throwing the dice and hitting a now awake and pissed off Cam right in the head.
“Watch it!”
“Sorry Cam…”
He turned away, back to slumber in his packet of Doritos.
Chance sighed. How many was that, now—19?
“Believe me, I know more about the going-ons of this house than any other object, bar Dorian.”
As Hector said that, his hands retreated back into the confines of his vent, rattling the pipes as he presumably went back to cooling the homeowner on the floor above.
Chance stared at the new, fresh dice, his fingers curling around it like it was a precious piece of a campaign, a figure he loved. But it wasn’t anything like that.
With this dice, that makes 20 attempts.
How ironic.
┈┈・୨ ⚀ ୧・┈┈
Chance woke up lying on the floor in the same hunched position he’d been carving in, the dice still clasped in his hand. With a groan, he propped himself up, observing the work he’d done the night before. The sculpted emoticons stared back almost mockingly, the paint clear and not stretching over the lines, perfect. He rolled them around in his hands, checking all sides, before stretching up and glancing at the door.
He raised the dice to his eye level, whispering down its white-coated frame.
“I don’t like you.”
He swore the face grinned further at him.
Then, he made the journey up to the attic, heading in just as he heard his name announced by Parker.
“Oh, we need my good friend Chance for this!”
Holy Crit.
Chance froze for a moment, before being ushered closer by an excited Parker, who proudly displayed him to the homeowner across the room.
We haven’t even rolled his dice yet.
“Friend.”
Something official.
For some reason, a stupid label made Chance’s head spin and the back of his neck to prick up.
It must be a mistake. Parker would never break his precious rules.
He quickly regained composure, launching into the first thing he could think of.
“I-I can’t believe you’re doing this dude. This is a terrible way to find out your relationships.”
Projection is very healthy. He assured himself, before continuing.
“It should be done through careful, well thought out story beats, excellent lore, and a good sense of closure.”
Chance glanced back over at Parker, who didn’t seem the least bit fazed.
Friend
“I love my dice. I neeeeeeed it. It’s part of the Rules of my Love!”
The nonsense spoken brought Chance back from zoning out yet again. A bad habit of his. His imagination was always on, always thinking of new campaigns and lore and— things said to him.
“Roll!”
“ Fine! Here they are. Your ‘relationship dice’”
He tried his best not to look anxious as he thrusted the carefully wrapped dice towards Parker, glancing away as he did so. His hands felt clammy as he rubbed them together, fretting. What if he didn’t like them? What if he expected something else? What if they weren’t good enough? What if he liked them more than Chance? What if—
A loud gasp echoed in the boiled room.
“THEY’RE BEAUTIFUL CHANCE!” Parker practically drooled as he dreamily spoke the words. He turned the dice around in his hands, beaming with more excitement each time. The way his eyes gleamed, it was as if he rolled three natural 20s in a row.
Chance let out a breath. “Yep.”
Parker looked at him expectantly. Ah. The weighing.
“Okay... so I’m supposed to ‘weight’ them depending on how you played your games together?” Chance grumbled, still miffed by Parker's delusion that randomness was a good way for relationships.
“Yes…” His smile widened, the way it always did when he spoke about rules. Chance stared at his sharp teeth for a second, then another, before he glanced back to Parker’s eyes, finding them locked onto the player. “The human gets extra love points for beating me…”
His eyes narrowed, and those shark-like teeth turned downwards into a scowl. “And extra HATE POINTS FOR CHEATING ME!”
Whatever words were spoken by the homeowner didn’t register in Chance's head, nor the words spoken by Parker following. Chance was far too busy staring at the way Parker’s eyes skewed downwards in detest. The way his pupils dilated as he hammered on about something or other. The way his eyes softened again before they slid over to meet Chance’s, freezing there for a fraction of a second.
“See that? It’s a sign, dear Chance!”
Chance ripped his gaze away, focusing instead on the dice Parker returned to his hands.
“Roll it, Chance. ROLL FOR OUR ETERNAL ENDING TOGETHER!!!” Parker's voice boomed, boisterous as ever.
“..sure dude.” Chance slid them around in his fingers, fiddling with something only he could see, before nodding. “I’ve got the dice done up like you wanted…”
He then remembered the owner's presence, showing them the dice.
“Odds slightly favour love here, but not by much.”
Somehow, that made his hands feel even worse than before, the dice almost slipping out of them. He shakily rolled them across the floor.
“It’s…”
An angry face glared back at him
“Oh dear.”
Parker's eyes changed once again, to pure dislike—a rotting kind of hate, the blue in his eyes evermore pronounced. “Hate! It’s hate! I knew it! Oh I never should have trusted you!”
Chance's heart almost fell out of his chest, because Parker was still staring at him, his eyes trained on the D20. “Dude, I’m not anything to you.”
He wished he was.
“Not you, you nitwit . The human.” His heart resumed pumping, though ‘nitwit’ was uncalled for, seeing how much work he put into those dice, earning a scowl towards Parker, whose gaze drifted away, much to his…dislike. “All that cheating didn’t pay off, I suppose.”
“I’m… gonna go.”
Chance hurried out the door, wiping his hands on the folds of his clothes, hearing Parker's voice boom down the corridor. “Go! Leave us as we stew in our hatred …”
┈┈・୨ ⚀ ୧・┈┈
Chance felt oddly… buzzed, as he paced back and forth in the office. Hate… He shouldn’t be happy that the player got hate. Parker’s rules were uncalled for, nonsense, illogical —
A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump in the air, the tension from earlier returning as he whipped around to face the assailant.
“Holy Crit, why does everyone keep—”
Parker.
“...Hey man. Done talking with the player already…?”
He waved Chance off. “No thoughts to that cheater anymore. I just wanted to say… Those dice you made, they're perfect ! Oh Chance, I just don’t know how to thank you.”
Ba-dump.
“Nah, don’t sweat it Parker. It was a favour.”
“Still! I’ll find something, just you wait!” And like that, the boardgames scurried back to the attic, leaving a Chance staring at the door, the hairs across his neck tickling his hair, the nape coated in a red that matched his outfit, his hands squeezing each other like their lives depended on it.
Chance’s hands were still clammy.
The vent chuckled.
Perfect.
Friend.
Ba-dump.