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Somebody, believably a tyrant like no other, had placed a grossly large sum of money on Parrot’s grave. And with no one to back him up besides his best friend, he had grown desperate and depraved. The usually calm and collected avian plotted to use an innocent man as a bargaining chip for his life, unbeknownst to Parrot; he was flat out of luck. Clown was always a step or few ahead and he planned to keep it that way as he sent his most trusted guard to force Parrot into a stalemate by taking his only true ally, Wifies, and threatening his life.
Of course he had let Branzy go, he was not about to sacrifice Wifies for his own selfish life. Cursing himself, he could do nothing but leave the dimly lit castle.
Branzy flew as quickly as he could, accidentally running out of rockets half-way through his panic and dropping low before swimming the rest of the way. Beaten up and now sopping wet he sighed, pausing to stretch before making the trek towards his factory. Boots scuff the mycelium before stopping, watching as one of his many beloved mooshroom cows began to approach his shaking form.
“Hey-Hey there-Hey there lil fella! Oh boy it’s-it’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” Branzy coughed out, still cold from the long swim.
The cow simply nudged itself under his arm in response.
“Oh-Oh yeah me-too bud, good thing they didn’t kill you..” He smiled weakly as his eyes softened and began to scratch its head.
It let out the smallest moo before toppling Branzy over and lying down on top of his tangled limbs.
“Goo-G- yeah, yeah yeah I- I needed this, its- its uhm nice to be home.” He wheezes. Behind him, small particles twist in the air. Slowly they give way to a large looming figure, one quite familiar to Branzy. Although that doesn’t stop him from jumping when it says “Branzycraft.” In a low tone.
Branzycraft nearly screams, but the heavy weight of his mooshroom cow is enough to crush the thought.
“H-Hey- Hey Clown, wha- what uhm what brings you here- I mean thank- thank you for you know.. saving.. me.” He winces as his injuries suddenly emerge from his dissipating adrenaline.
Clown’s face would be unreadable to any other player, but Branzy could tell when he paused for too long. “……..of course. You owe me, again.” Clown grins sadistically, although it looked a little sour “You really love racking up those lifetimes of debt, don’t you?”
Before Branzy can even form a thought to answer the assassin he is picked up by the scruff of his lab coat and wrapped tight in the jester’s cloak, sharp nails softly scrapping his sides.
The mechanic is aware that if he utters a sentence, this tender moment will be forgotten. Instead, he does his best to lean into the embrace as he hears Clown sigh loudly into his neck as if he had been holding his breath for as long as Branzy had been captured.
It doesn’t take long before Clown’s hold is suffocating, unwilling to let go. “Clown- bud-buddy, you’re squeezing a little hard.” The poor old man managed to choke out, had it not been Branzy, he wouldn’t have listened. The jester lifts him up and into the factory building where he can lay down on a couch. Clown places him down with some gentleness, looking at his own clothing now stained with wet patches. “O-oh oh I’m so so sorry I can find you something to wear if you want-?” The mechanic stutters.
“No.” The assassin replies bluntly.
He takes his cloak off and drapes it over Branzy, “I should go now.” He says slowly, as if unsure of his own assessment.
“Well you- you are a busy busy man, I get it! I- I uhm better get to work anyway.” Branzy mumbles.
“Right.” He pauses “Next time, tell me immediately.” Staring into the old man’s eyes.
“Of course.” Branzy whispers, looking very sincerely into Clown’s eyes, almost too intimately.
And with that, Clown takes off. Leaving a shivering Branzy covered in his cloak, smiling like a dope.