FFM3: Impulse Control
"Come on, Polly~" Damon whined in a sing song voice, pulling his reluctant side kick with him across the back field. Etna had only shook her head when Damon had announced that he would go forth and head the cookie thieves off at the pass.
In reality, watching a thirty six year old werewolf and a not so eager forest elf trek across a back field toward the stables was not an unusual sight. Granted, they were dressed up as a cowboy and a deputy, complete with the stick horses and revolvers, but still.
"Stop calling me Polly!" Damien hissed, readjusting his belt for the fourth time in the past ten minutes. He was going to kill Brendan and Cameron for emptying out the cookie jar right before Damon's pre-scheduled snack time. Sure, he might have been the werewolf's glorified babysitter, and he might have owed Deceit a lot after she took him away from a certain god awful angel warden and turned him back into his original form, but this. This was absolute madness.
Madness that Alice had readily supplied the costumes and paintball guns for. She was also going to get it, but Brendan and Cameron were first on the list. One does not take cookies from a child-like werewolf and get away with it, not in this part of the woods.
Damien was the first to scramble up the ladder and onto the stable roof, with Damon hot on his heels. The elf motioned for him to be quiet, and Damon tried his best to quell his excitement.
'Polly' took a quick glance over the side of the roof, and found the bandits enjoying their spoils when the should have been giving fresh hay to the livestock. He gave Damon a look, and they open fire.
Two hours later, Crypt came across the two of them happily munching on chocolate chip cookies. He, however, lost his ability to maintain a straight face at the sight of Brendan and Cami, hog tied and covered in neon colored paint splatters.
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