Chapter Text
Chance is bored. Unbearably, extremely, unresolvably bored. Usually, they would annoy Elliot, but after the round that he went through, Chance is pretty sure he doesn't want to be in Elliot's vicinity until he calms down enough to not be extremely passive-aggressive towards everyone for not protecting him. Which, fair, but that wasn't a reason to be so prickly about it, they think. There was only Two Time and themselves to offer anything in lieu of protection and Two Time got their spawnpoint thing found and respawned in enough corruption to turn the entirety of Robloxia black. When Elliot was being chased, Chance did try to help, really did, but all they could do was aim the gun in Doe's direction and watch as it exploded in their face. Doe didn't even mind them.
But that's all in the past, and they're bored right now. He debates cooking, but he's sure that someone will come in the cabin, and they might remind him that he's banned. By technicality, since everyone who started a spreading fire in the kitchen is banned from it, with the exception of dishes since you can't really set things on fire if you do the dishes (with the exception of if you're really trying to start one, which is ignored since none of them are pyromaniacs) and Chance did technically start a fire. But he does know how to cook, he just flipped a coin to decide whether to leave the stove on high or medium and he supposed the stove didn't like being set to high for that long. They didn't even know the stove could go up in flames if they did that. They all had to cook on a campfire until the Spectre gave them a stove again.
Well, maybe he could talk to another survivor. He's ruled out Elliot, so maybe Shedletsky? The guy was probably up to talk. He stood up from the couch and went to search for where Shedletsky could possibly be. He's not in the cabin, since Chance searched through the whole place and no one's entered, so they decided to go outside and see if he's in his cabin.
As they step into the open air, they notice that Builderman's lugging a ladder to… somewhere.
“Where you takin’ that ladder, pal?” Builderman looked miffed.
“My cabin’s got a leaky roof. I don't want it to flood when it rains.” He replies shortly.
“Well, mind if I give you a hand?” They've got nothing better to do, and fixing a roof sounds like something new.
Builderman looks at him weird, like they've committed some social faux pas by asking to fix a roof with him. Who knows, maybe it is. They never learned the etiquette of people who had to manually fix their roofing. He always called… Well, his roof didn't leak. Who did you call when your roof had a leak anyway?
“Sure.” He replies. He doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about it. He shoves the ladder into Chance's hands, before retreating into his cabin.
“Hey! I can't fix this roof myself!” Builderman said something back in response, but they didn't catch it. After a little bit of grumbling, Builderman came out with a variety of tools.
“No one can fix a roof without tools, y'know. Follow me.” They roll their eyes behind their shades. Builderman definitely catches it, but chooses not to mind it. He instead leads them to a side of the cabin.
“This is ‘round where that leak is.” He says, and Chance leans the ladder against the wall there. It starts slipping. They hold it in place, before trying a different incline. It holds, until it doesn't. Builderman watches this with the face of a man who has realised he has brought unto himself more trouble than he thought. Chance is still trying to get it to hold. He sighs. He puts the ladder at an angle that they swear they've tried before. It holds, this time.
“That's how you do it.” He says shortly, and climbs the ladder. Chance follows suit. They spot the leak, a place where the shingles on the roof seemed to have been tactically assaulted by something. They sit on the place where the two sides of the roof meet, with Builderman following. He inspects the leak, and with some tool Chance hasn't ever seen before, starts prying out the damaged roof tiles. Chance watches awkwardly for about a minute, until they decide that the silence is unbearable and therefore they should speak.
“So… what can I do here, exactly..?” They trail off.
Builderman pauses. “Give me things when I ask for ‘em.” He says, ripping out another tile. He looks like he’s focused on the roof work. Chance takes this as an opportunity to talk.
“D’you ever feel like the Spectre doesn’t look at what happens here? Like, of course it knows what happens but it doesn’t watch this place like it watches the rounds.” Builderman snorts.
“Why’d the darned thing give us this place then? Thought of that?” He replies, eyes still on the tiling.
Well.. “We’re its actors, yeah? We’ll give up without some rest. Probably just lie down and take it. Not like any punishment would do anything when you just don't have anything to lose. And we’re happier here, I guess. It doesn’t like when things are fine and happy. Look at that round when the kid was normal somehow. It ended the moment we got the gist we would be safe with the kid and 007 talked to him. The first time I saw him smile.”
“Hm. I s’pose.” Builderman mutters. “Hand me the extra shingles.”
Chance does it without complaint. Silence filled the space between them. They decided to break it again.
“How'd you, you know, get here?” They ask.
Builderman takes his eyes off the roof and gives Chance a sharp glare. “None of ya business.”
“Jeez. Didn't know you were so sensitive about that.” They try playing it off.
“Ain't it sensitive for you too?” He fires back. Chance doesn't respond.
“That's what I thought,” Builderman says to himself.
Chance sort of regrets coming along with Builderman now. They don't know how to fix a roof, and they can't talk to Builderman, since he seems to be hell-bent (hah) on making sure no conversation can exist between them. Well, they'll do what they usually do when there isn't anything else to do. They take their coin from their suit pocket and start flipping.
Tails. He clicks his tongue, and glances over to Builderman. He seems to have most of the work done with, looking at his work like he's scanning for any weak spots or imperfections. They flip again.
Tails again. Looks like Lady Luck's not on their side. Builderman sends him a look. He probably wants them to stop, but he's not going to do that just yet. Maybe he'll get a heads next. He flips again.
Heads. There's a little rush through their veins as they hear that little cling, that's accompanied them through their whole life. Side by side with Tails. But they've always gotten more Heads than Tails. Lady Luck's always been with them when they needed it most. (Except when iTrapped was involved, but he was always an exception.)
“Ever been to a casino?” They ask. Builderman looks like he's considering the question.
“Once. I don't think you'd call it a proper trip to a casino, since I didn't gamble nothin’, and just watched Shed fail a poker face three times, but it was interesting. A couple looked like they'd kill for a jackpot, a couple looked like they just wanted to waste money, and I'm fairly sure most of the people at the tables were cheatin’. Never really understood the pull, though. Don't think any of them won, not really. They'd just go back, give the money right to the house again. Sort of wanted to see Duse try poker, though. I’d think he has the best poker face.”
“I see it. Wonder how he’d rhyme ‘all in’, though.” Builderman chuckles.
“Oh, I've never seen him stop rhyming. Still don't know if it's a curse from messing around with magic like he does or if it's because he just wants to. Whenever we ask he rhymes his way out of it. Bet he could rhyme something with orange. He’ll pull some word outta one of his spellbooks and leave us before we can ask what it means.” He stops for a second, to check if a tile is firm. It holds still.
“Repair's all done. I'll go first. Wouldn't want you toppling the ladder.” With this, Builderman descends the ladder, and Chance comes down too.
“So, where did you get the ladder from?” They flip the coin again.
Heads.
“From behind the main cabin. You wanna help me put it back?” Builderman asks.
“Wouldn't mind it, Buildsy.” Builderman looks over his shoulder, and confines Chance to ladder-carrying duty.
In the end, the ladder was in its rightful place, Builderman’s cabin didn't leak, and Chance had no reason to wish his roof did while he was putting his hat on the nightstand. Builderman was just good company.