"Can you drive at all?" Alex asks Marley, climbing towards the back again,
drawing closer and closer to Pete. One hand is held up, then a single
finger, a curved, black claw growing slowing from its tip. "I'd like to
chat with Pete for a little bit, and we've got a crowd gathering outside."

"Yeah, yeah," Marley's grunting as she slips past, brushing against Xander
as she weasels past in the confining space of the truck. Excuse the fact
she doesn't know how to drive, but she's pretty sure she can wing it.
Where's the decceletrix again? "Just don't get no bile grodies all over
the popsicles, huh?" The girl paws a hand through her short touselled
black hair, squinting at the controls. Soon enough the ignition roars to
life.

And Pete's eyes are on the claw, now. The claw. He'd point out that it's
hard to have a chat when one of the potential conversants is gagged with
pistachio, but he's got, you know, a pistachio ice cream bar in his mouth.
Who knew anyone even /made/ them. Tangentially, he idly wonders if he's
getting frostbite. Finally, he tilts his head back, leaning it against the
wall of the freezer and closing his eyes. Mild sigh. This is gonna hurt -
but, well. *Ice cream truck*, for godsake.

The single finger draws ever closer, till its tip is touching Pete's skin,
almost flinching, expecting that fire to erupt. Alex fights with the
symbiote to not impale Pete on the spot. "Listen, very carefully. I'll
admit it, we're a little torn here. Two of us are screaming for your
death, and then you've got me. See, you burnt my girl, which is almost
automatic dismemberment. On the other hand, you helped make me the man I
am today.  You follow?" Slightly, just the tiniest pinprick puncture's
Pete's skin.

And there's no reaction to the pinprick puncture, other than Pete opening
his eyes and looking somewhat dully surprised. Then there's comprehension
behind his expression as he's glancing down, looking at Alex's hand again.
Oh. Right. Great - so if he lives, which seems might be the case, there's
gonna be a lot of postponement. With the pain. It's like when the dentist
tells you not to eat when you've gotten all novocained up, because if you
bite your lip you won't know until you're bleeding all over. Which doesn't
bode well for the whole frostbite thing. He bites the ice cream bar,
making a face, but nodding. Yeah, sequitur, man.

The finger hovers an inch from Pete's chest, but the symbiote moves in
pulses, pushing the hole wider, and sliding deeper, slowly, just a sliver,
enough to hurt, not enough to tear him apart. "I'm not gonna, save your
life, or anything like that. But I'll draw it out. And if the cavalry
shows up, priority number one is saving Marley. You still with me there
Petey? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

Wow, Pete feels really Kirk at the moment. Which is not an entirely
comfortable feeling, because hey, wooden acting. He blinks twice, even as
he's inhaling really sharply and tensing - a lot - then forcing himself to
relax. There's some quick chewing and a really uncomfortable-looking
swallow (who knows if the wincing is because of the hole currently being
opened in his chest or the ow, pistachio), but he's still not talking.
He's...biting the stick.

"No?" Alex says, stopping all movement, the exploring tendril pausing.
"Let's get one thing clear. I value Marley's life more than I value her
revenge at the moment, but on that point I think her and I differ. If you
manage the miraculous and get away, are you going to be vewwy vewwy quiet,
and be hunting Zandews? We'll know if you're lying," he hisses, the last
coming in a stereo voice, alien and human overlapping.

Oh god that's fuckin' creepy, that whole stereo voice thing. Jeez. "If,"
whispers Pete, "I'b subhow able to walk off..." How can he sound ironic?
How can he possibly sound ironic? But he does. "...by byself, I won't cub
after you. I already gabe by word, Alegs. Dot buch else I cad gib you."
Pause, and he looks away from Alex's face, down at the claw in his chest.
"But if subwud cubs ad gets be, thed /get away frub here/." He's always
been too honest, hasn't he. Gets him in trouble. Makes for a shitty spy,
one would think.

"Allow us to reiterate," Alex says in a quiet, casual voice, watching his
finger wiggle as it starts moving again, probing slowly, but slicing up
still, avoiding internal organs. "If you get the mistake notion to try and
come after us, should fate decide to intervene and spare you, you'll die,
and," Alex says, raising his eyebrows, almost sounding polite and
regretful. "I'll have to take the Jacques Cousteau internal exploration of
Kitty's vital organs. In alphabetical orders. Az yoo cahn zee, we'rre
approaching's Pierre's..." He pauses to think a moment, then the tendril
takes a downwards course. "Colon. Hey Marley! Would colon be the first
organ if you were going aphabetically?" he shouts towards the front of the
truck.

"A is for Asshole!" a voice rings out from the front of the truck.

"I tell you what, YOU violate his asshole!" Alex shouts back.

Mildly irritated look from Pete about the exchange. Funny, ha ha. Also
incorrect, dammit. "...appedigs, I thig. *I wo'd cub afder you lot*. Wand
be to probise agaid? I swear id. Ad dot id the sigs-figered bad sort ub
way.  So keeb the bloody Dildo ub Jusdice away frub by arse."

"Not that he'd notice," Marley's voice grumps up from the front of the
moving vehicle. "He's English. Ain't there something supposed to be shoved
up there?"

"I'm not gonna check!" Alex says, then brightens at Pete. "Hey yeah,
appendix. You don't even /need/ that thing. By the way? Your insides look
really gross." Thank you for showing him this brave new world, alien
amigo. "Look, let's just go back to the blinking system, okay? Cause I
don't speak retard. Once this is over, it's over? Once for yes." And he
better not see something else.

Oh, like he *would*. In conjunction with a single blink and the continued,
hello, agony, there is evidence of Pete's being spectacularly,
breathtakingly unimpressed. Don't speak retard, indeed. Arse.

"What about Adam's Apple?" Marley calls after an audible pause for
thought.

"That's not an organ!" Alex says, turning around, unthinkingly tugging
rather cruelly on the tendril buried in Pete. It's relegating itself to
surface perforation only now. "Hey, did Lindsey have an Adam's Apple?
Maybe he had an operation or something."

Besides no /anyway/ because it's the prominentia laryngea, technically,
but Alex doesn't speak retard and "Fffuck," inhales Pete, the sound at the
end of the word a kind of glottal stop rather than an honest 'k'. Damn
skippy that's some hurting.

"I think Adam had his apple crammed into Lindsey at one time or another!"
her voice replies back on a call over the roar of the truck. There is a
pause. "Who's Adam?"

There is a wet sound as the symbiote withdraws, retracing the twisted path
through Pete's chest cavity, emerging rapidly. Xander adds no barbs to it,
cause Pete was his friend. "Adam. First man ever? It's bible stuff."

Nng. There's just heavy breathing on Pete's end, and - well, at least it's
keeping him from falling asleep, right? Xander's a /good/ friend. And with
friends like this, who needs enemies? Wait, did I say just heavy
breathing? 'Cause, wrong. Also bleeding. And this was a brand new white
shirt, pressed and lovely for services. At least Kitty won't be annoyed,
because she considers clothing disposable and a definite short-term
investment.

"Hey!" That same old voice cuts any dramatic tension licensed to a scene
of torture. "Ever hear that one joke? Who were the first gays? Adam and
Steve!" Marley cackles whole-heartedly at herself.

There is childish laughter on Xander's part as he climbs back towards the
front, his message delivered. "She says Lindsey used to cry /all/ the
time," Alex confides over his shoulder at Pete. "Wanna hear a joke? Marley
already knows this one. What's the sound of one hand clapping? Oh god! My
hand! My fucking hand oh god!" He needs a new line.

"Gordon fuggig Beddett," mutters Pete, rolling his eyes, leaning his head
back again. I...hey! Can't feel my hands and feet -- oh wait, that's not
news. The whole lotta blood is, though. And, dammit! Some of my best
housemates were gay...

"Oh *yeah*," that voice calls back amidst a hackling laugh, as Marley owns
the truck. She slouches, elbows perched on the steering wheel, certainly
not abiding the rule of ten and two as she steers it nonchalantly down the
city street. "Wah wah wah, all the damn time. Wah wah, someone call me
name.  Wah wah, Buffy and John soooo mean to me. Wah wah, didn't even get
reach around. And then he get all pissy I happen a laugh something he say.
I don't know what it mean down there, but when he say 'like stroking a
pussy', it ain't mean no guitar."

Xander is silent a moment in thought, mostly thinking about big gay
Lindsey, and how much he is of the gay. "His sister was a big skank," he
says suddenly, informing all who care to hear. "Why hello I'm Jodie, would
you like to talk and then maybe have sex? And I'm like huh? And she's
like, 'Oh, we can skip the talking if you want' and then she starts asking
about my 'corncob'."

Pete doesn't speak retard, either, but he also values his life. And, well,
it would take effort and participation of others for Alex and Marley to
see the look of bafflement on the English spy's face, so he just keeps
quiet and busies himself with keeping the knowledge that he's riding
around tied up in the back of an /ice cream truck/ in the forefront,
higher in priority than the deep hurting. Helps keep him from taking
himself too seriously, see. There's a brief pause after what Xander says,
and then, "Are you serious?"

Marley makes herself laugh, despite the raging jealousy that is really a
constant in her little wee head. Scarred fingers bite down into the
moulded contours of the steering wheel. "Oh yah. Her. God, come home every
day, want a good fuck get some tension out, and it's old McDonald family
sing-along. All. The. Time. Probably what they did back then, over and
over broken damn record. See, you gotta sing about eating your dog when
you don't even got the dog around to eat."

Xander picks up on the emotion only peripherally, writing it off to his
imagination. "What kinda sicko practically forces himself on a young
innocent lady like Marley, then pressures her into marriage after what?
What was it, two months? Two months! Did you know," Alex says, slinging
his arm on the back of the seat to turna round and look at Pete. "When I
met Marley, it was instant crush. But what did Lindsey, my boss, my
'superior', my authority figure say? She's too young. If you touch her,
I'll break your kneecaps that's what he said. Then he went and took her,
just to spite me. What the hell is that!"

Gotta sing when your spirit says sing. Yeah -- remember Lindsey joining in
w hen Pete was singing The Kids Are Alright. Remember. What happened? God
only knows. How about everything. How about psycho angels and cheating and
heroin and then the fucking symbiote. "Haven' the foggiest," says Pete a
trifle more faintly than before. "This cidy's daft, says I."
Disconnectedly, he wonders if they have Creamsicles back here.