°🥂⋆.ೃ🍾࿔*:･
The camera’s already rolling. That shaky, handheld grain makes everything feel like a cursed documentary. [REC] blinks steady and smug in the top corner. Munky sits cross-legged on the floor, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s about to do is a bad idea. In his gloved hand: a half-empty bottle of something that looks like it came out of a science lab.
“This,” he says, holding it up to the camera like it’s an award, “is probably not meant for internal use.”
Off-screen, Head’s voice instantly chimes in, panicked. “DUDE. PUT THAT DOWN.”
Too late. Munky throws it back like it’s soda. He swallows. Freezes. Blinks once.
“…Tastes like batteries and regret.”
From the hallway, Jonathan’s voice cuts in like a blade. “What the fuck is wrong with you?*”
The camera jerks slightly as Munky looks up, caught. JD’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing the kind of expression that says I have officially had it.
“You drank that?” JD barks.
“I sampled it,” Munky says innocently, shaking the bottle. “There’s a difference.”
Head edges into frame like he’s watching a wild animal. “You said it was ‘mystery juice’! I thought you were joking!”
JD steps closer, already furious. “That has hazard symbols on it, dude. Like. Actual skull and crossbones shit.”
You shift from the couch nearby, wearing one of Munky’s hoodies and blinking sleepily. Your voice is muffled, warm from sleep. “…Babe. Please don’t die. I just got comfortable again.”
Munky’s grin softens for a second when he sees you, eyes lingering.
“For you? I’ll try not to explode,” he says, flashing a wink in your direction before glancing back at JD. “No promises, though.”