Young Writers Society

Amoku turned from his conversation and eyed Greed who was inspecting the convulsing human.

"You're obviously not human. Why help an idiot like this?"

"Those things are entirely unrelated," Greed said tersely.

It was just a...habit. Sloth's endless rambling rubbing off on Greed. Earworm words telling Greed to let the silly little time-dwellers live.

"Ah, I see. You don't seem like the type with compassion. I'm surprised," Amoku grinned.

"Waltz off to Hell," Greed said with a sarcastic grin and went back to tending to the man on the floor.

"Of course," said Amoku.

He walked over to Greed and smiled down at them, "Now what?"

Greed glared. "Very funny."

Amoku didn't reply. Instead, he flew over to a bartender, who was surveying the scene with morbid pleasure, "Give me an orange juice, now."

Andrew smiled "boom" he muttered clicking a button.

James suddenly stopped experiencing a seizure and bolted up. He stood up and dusted himself off. "Give me back my phone" he said to Greed. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a syringe which he than injected himself with.

Greed rolled their eyes and leaned back on their heels. "Absolutely not."

James frowned "fine" he picked up his suitcase. "I don't need it anyway." He turned to face the customers at the Tavern. "I thank you all for your co-operation" he said.

"Trying to figure out how dimensions work, hm, pretty boy?" Greed asked, straightening.

James scoffed "no...we figured that out long ago, I am here for...different reasons."

Greed snickered. "Sure. And what might those other reasons be?"

"That's confidential, now give me my phone back please." James hopped onto a table and cleared his throat "everyone thank you, we will be contacting some of you in the possible near future especially you" he said, gesturing to the bartender.

"Ooo, it's confidential," Greed rolled their eyes, "What if I promise to keep a secret?"