Failed the QTE

"WHY IS MY STUFF IN THE HALLWAY?"

Aww, guess who's back, Rhys?

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"Oh, was that yours?" Rhys asked. "I thought it was garbage."

Okay, a little juvenile, but still a decent insult!

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"IT'S NOT GARBAGE."

Inside voice, Kuzco.

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"Looked like garbage to me!" Rhys shot back, abandoning Dumpy to go be smug at Kuzco.

Dumpy fell off the bed attempting to follow him. Bless it's little robot heart.

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"Well, Blinky, maybe leave someone else in charge of looking, then."

Kuzco, you're gonna get punched.

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That implied Rhys was capable of punching someone without hurting himself. So.

He looked down at Kuzco's stuff again. "Nope, still garbage."

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"You have no taste," Kuzco said, then tried an extremely athletic (...for him) leap towards the door.

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"I have better taste than you! You wear dresses," Rhys replied, wedging himself in the door frame to block him.

It was just precious that Rhys thought his taste was better.

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"Robes," Kuzco said snippily as he bounced unathletically onto the floor and glared up at Rhys. "You're the worst."

Even though Kuzco totally started this.

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"Dresses," Rhys shot back, clinging to the door frame to keep from falling back.

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"At least I have different ones," Kuzco sniffed. "You look like a homeless guy."

Because Kuzco had kiiiiiinda made him homeless.

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"Are you making a donation?" Margaery asked, stepping around the pile when she returned to her own room across the hall after class.

Not that she was especially interested, but some of those fabrics looked expensive enough that she noticed.

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Rhys jerked his head up from where he'd been trying to fix Dumpy's hellish shrieks of a sound box.

"Sure. I don't need them."

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Curious phrasing, but Margaery was - perhaps predictably - distracted.

"What in the name of all seven hells is that?" she asked, a little more alarmed than she'd been now that she was seeing the source of that noise.

She'd be back to rummaging through Kuzco's stuff in a minute, probably.

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"Dumpy? He's an old Atlas security bot," Rhys said, not seeing anything wrong with the ungodly cacophony it produced. With love. It did it with all the love in its circuits.

And then fell over.

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Margaery winced as the thing fell over. "Pretend I don't know what any of those words mean," she suggested to Rhys. Yes, 'pretend.' "What's a bot? What is he supposed to do, besides make that awful noise?"

It better not be something it was going to do all the time. Bad enough she had to share a room - even if Shiemi was adorable - but Margaery was not about to put up with trying to sleep through that sound.

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"You don't know what a robot is?" RHYS, SHE DRESSED LIKE A REN FAIRE WORKER. CHRIST.

Dumpy crooned from its spot on the floor.

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"I don't know what a lot of things on this island are," Margaery replied, shrugging a shoulder. "Is it a machine? Like a mill?"

If you asked Margaery, an awful lot of things around here were 'like a mill.'

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"It's... a robot." He was never meant to be a teacher. Ever. "I don't know. Like a person you can make out of metal," he said, leaning over to pick Dumpy up to put back on the bed. He lost his balance a little, but liked to think he recovered like a pro.

He did not.

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"But not actually a person?" Margaery asked, still confused. "Like a doll? How does it move?"

She wondered if he needed help. Perhaps she ought to call someone for him.

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