Dubiously Good

You are quite aware of the dubious morals your proceeding action requires and how concerning the fact that you have completely convinced yourself this of all possible things is the correct move. You, Ruax, have decided to single-handedly make your friends make up. How? Easy, you just go sabotage the backup generator by kicking it out of commission... Easier said than done.

"Shit!"

Yeah, apparently kicking a heavy object meant as a large backup batery for an entire household when nature decides to unleash fury upon human civilisations is not the greatest idea in your arsenal. Shocking.

You hum, looking over the offending object and deciding that hiding it in the trunk of your car will do just fine. Rachel is at work, Daria asleep, and Zoe hogging the bathroom for the next hour, maybe two. All in all, you have time.

"Fuck you," you flip off the heavy generator that has absolutely zero comfortable handles to be carried using. It should be sin to build handleless heavy objects. You huff and puff and are ready to blow the entire house away because these three piggies can't get a-fucking-long. You'll change that soon. Now, where does Daria keep the tools again?

Turns out you may have time, but not luck on your side. Your best friend has been your roommate for about six years now so you're keenly aware of how light of a sleeper she is, but also a workaholic, meaning that the moment you see the tools aren't in their designated drawer, you know they're in her room. Daria doesn't even flinch as you open the door and tip-toe with all of the grace of an elephant. —surprisingly. Her work table is littered with motherboards, wired, tiny screws and the tools you require among many PC modifying parts you cannot begin to name. Is that a fan? Whatever, you debate whether to take the screwdriver or the hammer for fourty panic fueled seconds as you stare at any micro-movement of hers which you recognise as creepy. You're not clueless. You can tell this is wrong. You grab onto both and cringe, your guts flipping as you for an ungodly reson drag both across the table instead of lifting them carefully. Daria groans. Time to run!... You said... Time to run.

No? Okay, fight or flight be damned, you freeze instead. You watch as Daria moves from one prone position to another, almost falling off her bed, one elbow floating as her hand is pushed under her face... Then she stills. You thank whatevery diety allowed that and slip out of the room before you can be actually noticed but as you're coming out you hear the bathroom open and quickly rush back in. The day is young, you can't hide in shadows. Instead you wait it out in Daria's room as Zoe walks the hall in merely two towels. Your heart beats so hard you feel it in your eyes and head, your vision pulsating, panic rising in your chest as Daria shifts again to sit up. You rush out with surprisingly silent steps, or so you hope, and almost meet Zoe face to face. It's more like face to chest, really. Your height versus hers is comical considering she's three years older and you a head taller. You stuff both hands in your jacket pockets, letting the tools go in your sleeves too because they can't quite fit, and you greet her with a smile. You are so caught.

Zoe smiles back and points at Daria's door with furrowed brows and you avoid using sign language beyond shrugging because, you know, trying not to get caught red handed.

"Daria, " she says in a slightly off voice, since she can't really hear herself well, then closes her eyes just to open them after bringing thumb and index connected by them and snapping those open too. Awake. Zoe is asking if Daria is awake. You give a sceptical face at her and shrug again, moving to the side to slide away smoothly and she just looks at you oddly then the door aaaand...

You're gone.

Extreme relief hits you. Guilty? You were feeling guilt even though this is for the greater good... Why? Sure, your methods are somewhat questionable, but it works... in movies.

Finally you reach the household's circuits and breakers and you take the tools out. Pliars would have been too obviously your doing, but with these you can make it look accidental.

A scream is heard inside the house as the power goes out. You have exactly sixteen minutes before Rachel is home on average and you definitely need to see why Zoe just screamed. You hide the hammer and screwdriver, closing the electrical box with a slam, genuinely shocked you didn't get... Shocked. That wording is so flawed you give yourself a pat on the back. Reux, you can do this, just go in there and lie to their faces.

"Heeeey," you drag out, visiting the livingroom, "what's wrong?"

Zoe is near-catatonic as she stares at the computer she's sitting at in the corner.

"I..." she trails off and groanes loudly in desperation before dropping her head in her hands, the last bit sounding like a sob.

"Woah, hey," you say mostly to yourself as Daria rushes in at the speed of a sloth to check out the noise. You run a comforting hand down Zoe's back as she explains.

"Five hours of work down the drain! It was going so well! The thing is due Monday and all I have is nothing!"

Okay, you feel bad. Student life is hard as is, you know that very well.

"You'll be fine," Daria mumbles in apathy, knowing she won't be heard. This is not going as planned. Rachel is gonna walk through that door any minute and see a mess! This needs to be fixed before the queen of chaos herself is here. You sigh in anxiety bubbling up at your plan being ripped to tiny shreds at the pace of a snail and you cannot watch. You kick into high gear.

You rush to your room, grab a notebook and pen and give them to Zoe, signing to her to write down whatever parts she rememberd roughly as an outline then elaborate the best she can, trying to follow her earlier thought process. You then go make everyone coffee while talking to Daria, distracting her, aiming her morning grump at herself as Rach enters. You... Can't make coffee. There is no power. You shove the mugs back into place and bite your nail, a nasty habit you've yet to put down, and you gather everyone.

Three very confused women sit on the couch, all mildly uncomfortable.

Rachel holds herself upright, her dress shirt wrinkling from the position, one elegant leg crossed over the over, facing away from the rest.

Daria's posture is hunched, casual and not yet fully awake as she glances to the side at the other two then at Ruax, at you.

And lastly, Zoe sits antsy, hands tapping on her knees which are pressed together, lips pursed, eyes not lingering on anything particular in the room.

"Oh, will you just all relax? The power is out, not the end of the world," you say and sign the best you can, all eyes now firmly focused on you, expecting more.

"Okay, so, let's all just chill here? It's Saturday anyway, early enough to not worry about—"

"I'll call the electrician," Rachel pulls her phone out.

"Nope," you say, snatching it from her, "this is a Godsend. Obviously we are supposed to stay home and spend time together!"

"Or we can just get it fixed and not have all our food spoil by tonight."

"You're no fun, Rach!"

"So I've been told," she glares to the side.

"Won't you can it," Daria groans and Zoe stares in confusion, none of the girls bothering to sign the argument since it isn't aimed at her.

"If you think I'll take sh—"

"Stop it! Friendly fun hangout time! No tech, no fighting!"

"Good luck with that," Daria calls, heading to her own room. Rachel takes her phone back from you and calls up the number anyway, walking to another room to speak, leaving you and Zoe alone.

You sit by her then turn and lay instead, putting your head in her lap and she sees the expression on your face. She doesn't ask. Zoe just runs her fingers through your hair and you enjoy her soft thighs and fingers. Fine, you guess sometimes it's better not to meddle. This got you nowhere. They're adults, they should settle it themselves, yeah? It feels wrong but you have been trying for months now. Maybe it will get better if you leave them alone and just enjoy this. Yeah, you just might do exctly that. You sigh heavily through your nose, eyes closed, fingers messing with your hair playfully, charming, and your eyes settle on a sad, understanding smile paired by matching eyes.