Sweet Affectionate Moments Meme Fills

“What are you doing? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?”

Zeccan would have vastly preferred not to have run into Ravlyn, but it seemed like she wasn’t going to be given the chance.

The Gold found her lurking around outside of the studio, slinking around trying to find a window to look through so she could plan her next course of action. Tancol was working today, the Purple recording another episode of her ‘Predictions of a Mystical and Otherwise Unearthly Properties’ show, and Zeccan wanted to put herself in a good position to ‘conveniently’ bump into the Clown afterward.

But of course, Ravlyn couldn’t leave her alone to plan things out, of course, she couldn’t.

“I could ask the same thing about you,” Zeccan turned to stare at the Gold through the bangs of her hair, narrowing her gaze as the other Troll scoffed. “Why are you out here? At this time of night?”

“The Clowns are smoking out the stages,” the words were followed by a scoff as Ravlyn leaned against the wall of the studio, the defining golden material of her sweater a stark contrast to the wall’s own colour, something bright and vibrant dulled to gray and muck after years of use. “So I’m going to wait out here.”

“You don’t have to admit to being kicked out to the trash,” Zeccan pointed out, already turned away from Ravlyn and focusing on the much more interesting task of straining to see through one of the windows once more. 

There’s a long, drawn-out silence and Zeccan almost counts it as a victory.

“At least they actually know my name.”

Nevermind.

The Olive turned, ready to snap something back at the Gold. 

But Ravlyn was already gone, storming off back through the backstage door and leaving Zeccan standing outside, alone but for the trash strewn about.

Her hands clenched by her side, jaw tensing until she felt her teeth threaten to break in her skull.

And she released a deep breath, curling into herself.

It... suddenly didn’t seem like a good day to try to speak to the Purple within the studio.

…

Perhaps another day.