Okay, maybe you remember the Stubborn Couples …

Okay, maybe you remember the Stubborn Couples writing prompt thing. I've come up with one prompt of my own and it fits really well for our Assassin-Patrician couple, hear me out: "We've got strangled in the we-are-gonna-die situation and in an attempt to accept the possible death more easily I jokingly said that if we make it out alive I'm taking you out for a date, man we really suck at dying, but like hell I'm backing off what I said because my oaths are sacred."

This is what happens when the Assassins’ Guild prankster strikes: a group of twenty-odd students indignant (and not at all terrified) that amanita virosa, famous destroying angel mushroom, has been added to their soup.

Certain death! Painful, elongated, shameful certain death!

Everyone declares that should they live they will inhume the fuck out of whoever did this. One person, in a moment of mad desire to be obnoxious to the person next to him adds, ‘and once I’m done inhuming him I’d take you on a date dog-botherer. Just to annoy you.’

‘That makes no sense, Downey. Why would you do that?’

‘As I said, to annoy you. To make you wish you had died. And, since we’re possibly on our way out DB, your last thoughts are going to be of that horror. You’re welcome.’

They do not die. At least, not in this trouser leg of time.

Guild Prankster, Stephen Blowbat, is hung up by the back of his jerkin in the guild fencing hall and left over night as punishment. It is returning from the hanging of Stephen Blowbat when Downey runs into Vetinari looking paler than usual, if possible, and carrying a stack of books.

Instinctually Downey grabs the top book and dances away with it, ‘what’s this Dog-botherer? Oh now you’re interested in fungi? Only because of Batface’s little mess?’

‘I thought it pertinent to read up on it.’

Downey flips through the book then tosses it back with a sneer, ‘it’s a fine beginner book for those who only have an elementary understanding. Good for you for knowing your limits.’

‘I noticed you didn’t catch that it was a hoax until a few hours in.’

‘Look up Destroying Angel DB then tell me how long until symptoms become noticeable.’

Vetinari, hands full, glares.

‘Five hours at the earliest,’ Downey supplies. ‘Come now, surely you remember your intro mycology course.’

‘I remember plenty from it.’

‘Uh huh.’

Vetinari side-steps Downey to continue down the hall away from the muffled cries emanating from the fencing hall. Downey spins on his heels and strides after the other young man.

‘You should take Mr. Blowbat down,’ Vetinari says as they near stairs up to the graduate rooms.

‘Batface deserves it. Batface is a scag.’

‘Yes, Downey.’

‘So you free Friday?’

Vetinari, standing a few steps ahead of Downey, slowly turns and blinks at him with his owlish expression.

‘Seven?’ Downey prompts.

‘For what purpose?’

‘Dinner, Dog-botherer. We lived, therefore you must suffer our continued existence upon this mortal shuffleboard by going to dinner with me. I keep my promises, as ill thought out as they sometimes are. Let’s say seven and uh Agatean? I know a sushi place.’


‘Good, I’ll pick you.’ Downey grins with what can be termed as a “shit-eating expression,” does an approximation of finger cross bows and walks off.

‘We live down the hall from each other,’ Vetinari says to Downey’s back. Then, to an empty corridor, ‘you can’t pick me up if we live in the same building.’

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