"Why do I have to share a room with the psycho?" Schuldig complained, sounding like he was either about to beat someone up over it, break down and cry or just simply accept it as another unavoidable part of life. "Can't you baby-sit him instead? Or have Nagi do it? Or put him in a straightjacket and lock him up in one of the closets?" the redhead tried, knowing fully well he didn't have a chance to get away from this.
"Farfarello wouldn't be very useful gagged and bound, and both Nagi and I have work to do," Crawford retorted, tired of arguing with the German.
"Right... work," Schuldig smirked, quirking an eyebrow, rendering him an annoyed scowl from the American.
"Yes, work. Maybe you should try it sometime." Thus ending the discussion, Crawford walked of leaving the redhead standing in the doorpost, feeling like he'd just lost a fight. Again.
Schuldig sighed, closing the door behind him, surveying the cramped hotel room. They were on another dreary "mission", waiting for someone to show up for some meeting about something he really didn't know anything about. And of course he'd get stuck with the psychopath. In what must have been the smallest room in the entire hotel. He frowned, envisioning Crawford choosing some big fancy suite for himself. With a mini-bar and a jacuzzi. Schuldig grinned, now there was a thought...
Returning to reality he eyed the room again. Just great, one bed. Sometimes he figured Crawford would do these things just to piss him off. Well, Farfarello would just have to sleep on the floor, he reflected, sending some more hateful thoughts towards his inconsiderate leader.
Removing his blazer and stretching out on the bed, Schuldig closed his eyes, trying to make the best of the situation. Just fabulous...
"Would you PLEASE stop thinking so loud!" he lashed out, throwing a pillow at Farfarello, where he was sitting uncomfortably curled up in a chair. Licking a knife. Of course.
Catching the pillow midair, Farfarello nuzzled it beneath his head as he looked over at the redhead.
"Thank you," he said quietly, as if Schuldig had just given him the best gift he'd received in his entire life.
"I wasn't trying to be nice," the German grimaced, wondering if Farfarello ever really understood a word of what he was saying. He was completely hopeless to yell at, everything just went right by him, not even registering in that fucked up brain of his. "You're welcome," Schuldig finally conceded, closing his eyes again, attempting to get some sleep.
Almost an hour later he still wasn't any closer to fall asleep and restlessly sat up on the bed. What was he doing here anyway? He could have been out clubbing or something, and instead he was cooped up in a hotel room with a psychotic self-mutilating Irishman, who by the way wasn't even awake. Momentarily looking over at Farfarello, he observed that the man was snoozing cozily in his chair, hugging his pillow, with a slight smile grazing his pale lips.
Taking a quick peek into Farfarello's dreams, Schuldig recoiled, astonished beyond words. Blood and murder and violence he could deal with, but this? Little redheaded bunnies? And Farfarello was snuggling one of them without deliberately attempting to suffocate it? Now that was just disturbing...
Schuldig shook his head, glancing over at the clock radio on the nightstand. Barely 1 am. How the hell was he supposed to sleep this early? Noticing the little "no smoking" sign beside the radio, he sighed and reached for his cigarettes.