Summary: A conversation between Greed and Kimblee. Humor. Not slash. Implied Martel/Dorchette.
Greed staggered into the main room of the Devil’s Nest compound. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head vigorously, trying vainly to forget what he had just seen. He all but fell onto a barstool and grabbed the nearest bottle. He took a deep swig without even looking to see what it was. “It’s no use. Nothing helps,” he muttered. He rubbed his eyes again and took another drink from the bottle. Kimblee, who had been sitting in the seat next to him, unnoticed, raised an eyebrow and looked at him. Greed looked up, searching for something stronger than whatever had been in the now nearly empty bottle, and spotted Kimblee. Greed blinked and looked around quickly. “So,” he said, “seen any good therapists lately.”
Kimblee looked at him blankly, “What do you think?”
“Oh right, well, then I guess I should ask you the best way to go about going insane,” Greed responded.
“Now that I can help you with,” Kimblee said, almost joyfully. “There are many ways, the fastest way begins with seeing something horribly traumatizing.”
“Check,” Greed answered.
“Are you sure it was traumatizing enough?” Kimblee asked. “Did you feel like gouging out your eyes and running away screaming?”
“I did gouge my eyes out and run away screaming,” Greed answered, irritated. “And it didn’t do any good.”
Kimblee seemed thrilled. “Excellent, you’re well on your way. Now, do you think it would help to talk about it?”
“No!” Greed said certainly.
“Then we should definitely talk about it,” Kimblee replied.
Greed looked at him, he hadn’t seen Kimblee this happy since the last time he’d blown up a building. At least he knew he had come to the right person for insanity. He sighed, he really didn’t want to talk about this, it had already made him physically ill and was making him mentally ill without talking about it. He didn’t see why he would have to talk about that. But Kimblee obviously knew what he was doing. Greed sighed. “Do you know that Martel and Dorchette are…” he shuddered involuntarily, “sleeping together?” He shuddered again, and finished off the bottle of liquor he was still holding.
“Yeah, and?” Kimblee responded, perplexed as to what that had to do with anything.
“What do you mean ‘yeah, and?’?!?” Greed exploded angrily.
“I’m insane, I’m not blind,” Kimblee answered.
“Neither am I!” Greed responded, indignantly. “Well, except for a few minutes back there when I gouged my eyes out, I was blind then. But not usually.”
“It’s been obvious for a while now, even to me, and I’ve been locked up in a cell, cut off from the outside world for nearly five years,” Kimblee said. “It’s not that hard to figure out. And it’s not that big of a deal—” Kimblee suddenly burst out laughing. If Greed had possessed any doubts about the insanity of the man sitting next to him they were gone now. He edged away from Kimblee a bit, that laugh was really something; Greed now understood where the “Mad” portion of his title came from. “I get it now,” Kimblee said, after he had stopped laughing. “You walked in on them didn’t you?” Greed nodded meekly. “That’s hilarious!”
“Oh yes,” Greed answered sarcastically. “That is, if by hilarious you mean mind scarring!”
“Don’t I always?” Kimblee responded and began laughing again.
Greed glared at him. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“You!” Kimblee said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean you sleep with people all the time—”
“Yeah, people I don’t know!” Greed corrected him. “And they’re not even really human.”
“Neither are you,” Kimblee observed.
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Greed yelled. “This is different!”
“Because they’re doing it out of feelings for one another rather than as recreation?” Kimblee asked.
Greed looked more revolted than ever. “They’re not doing it for recreation?!? I was just assuming that it was a kind of co-workers with benefits thing! You mean they actually have feelings for each other?!?”
Kimblee nodded, smirking, this was possibly the most entertaining conversation he’d ever had, with the exception of that time he’d been able to drive that guard in the prison insane by talking to him.
“That’s disgusting!” Greed had stopped shouting; he looked as if he were on the verge of vomiting. He grabbed another bottle and opened it violently and took a good long swig.
“Indeed,” Kimblee answered. “Anyway, just out of morbid curiosity, did they see you?”
“No, I don’t think so. They were a little distracted,” Greed answered, angrily, “and besides, I think I did enough seeing for everyone.”
“Actually, I always thought you’d be into that sort of thing,” Kimblee commented.
“I am! When it’s people I don’t know!” Greed retorted. “Sex is great whey you don’t know the people involved! That’s why there are two big problems with this. One, I know them; and two, they aren’t really even people! We’ve been over this already!”
“Good, because repetition is the sign that it’s time for step two,” Kimblee answered.
“What’s step two?” Greed asked, looking hopefully at the half empty bottle on the bar in front of him.
“Sorry, that’s not it, well, actually, you might want to bring that with you,” Kimblee said, grinning maniacally. “Because step two is facing your fears.”
Greed looked at Kimblee, confused for a moment, then his eyes widened. “No way! You really are insane if you think I’m going back and looking at that again!”
“Exactly,” Kimblee responded. “Now, let’s go.”
“No!” Greed shouted, “I won’t go back! It was awful! And the noises…the horrible noises!: Greed got up, grabbed the bottle, took another swig of the bright green liquid, and ran out of the room laughing, crying or both; Kimblee wasn’t quite sure which.
Kimblee began to laugh again, downing the shot in front of him. It seemed like everyone he really talked to went completely insane by the end of their conversation. Who said mental illness wasn’t contagious? At that moment, Law walked into the room and sat down in Greed’s now vacant seat. Kimblee took a deep breath and stopped laughing. He grabbed another glass and put it in front of the chimera next to him. He then proceeded to fill the glasses with his favorite, crimson-colored liquor. “So,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “want to talk?”
Summary: Humor pure and simple. Just a bit of everyday life in Devil's Nest.
Greed: Martel, go get the paper.
Martel: -sigh- Dorchette, go get the paper.
Dorchette: Oh, I see how it is. Just because I’m part dog, you want me to go get the paper.
Martel: No, I just don’t want to do it myself.
Dorchette: Yeah right. It’s always some excuse. I’m tired of it!
Martel: Tired of what?
Dorchette: Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m the only one who gets made fun of. No one ever makes fun of you for being a snake or Law for being an ox, or bandage man for being… whatever the Hell he is!
Martel: My God, I just asked you to fetch the paper.
Dorchette: You just said, “fetch the paper!” You do think I’m a dog.
Martel: Calm down Dorchette, you’re overreacting.
Greed: Both of you shut up! I’ll get the god damned paper. Stupid overly sensitive medical
experiments. –gets up, walks out and slams door behind him-
Martel and Dorchette: -shifty eyes- -high five-
-Dende-sama was here.