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[TWO SLOW DANCERS]

0.0 || prologue

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"I just don't understand why I'm being offered up to approach them for what is obviously going to be the most abused peace treaty in the history of peace treaties."

Camille idly folds the piece of paper in front of her as she complains, well, bitches to her brother. "Oh, well, that one's easy. You think like them, obviously." Chris responds and she rolls her eyes.

"Right, of course. How could I forget?" She responds and he shrugs.

"Joking aside though, they probably are more likely to trust you than me." Chris says after a beat and she huffs.

"Doesn't mean I want to go." She grumbles.

"Well, should have gotten out when I told you to." Chris responds and she narrows her eyes at him.

"I did. You dragged me back because you didn't want to suffer alone." Camille retorts.

"Did I? Huh." He says and she rolls her eyes. "Ah, you would have hated working in an office anyway." Chris says.

"Yeah, but at least I would have been out and away from our father. I'd rather be grumpy and trapped in an office than grumpy and forced to deal with him." Camille argues.

"Well, that's a completely valid stance to take. But that would have left me dealing with him alone and I didn't want to." He says and she huffs.

"I hate you." She grumbles.

"No, you don't. I'm the only person in this family you like." Chris responds and she groans, dropping her head to the countertop with a thud.

"I'm in debt for a law degree I can't even use because I'm apparently eternally trapped in the role of my father's goddamn messenger pigeon." Camille complains and Chris frowns slightly.

"Eternally trapped? I mean, Cam, he might manage to outlive us out of sheer spite but at least we'll die and get away from him eventually." Chris says.

"Yeah, and when we're all eventually suffering in hell, he'll still somehow find away to pull this shit." She says and Chris chuckles briefly at her.

"Let me know when you're done being melodramatic, would you?" He asks.

"I hope you die, you asshole."

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