mob and Verity

The evening in the room dragged on unbearably slowly. After that terrible day when Twixel had died, the atmosphere between them had changed forever. Mob was reclining on the floor, his back against the wall, staring blankly into space through his green glasses. Verity was perched on his lap as usual—at this moment, he looked like an ordinary, harmless yellow balloon with a smiley face. Mob instinctively held him with his hand, but the movements no longer held the warmth he had once felt. Every glide of his fingers over the smooth yellow surface was now a reminder of what this "mod" was capable of. Suddenly, the air around them sparkled faintly, and a tiny golden star flared above the balloon's head. Mob didn't even have time to react before the light, round object on his stomach suddenly grew heavier, rapidly changing shape. A second—and instead of a ball, a man was sitting right on Mob, unceremoniously straddling his hips. A formal suit, a light shirt with a perfectly knotted yellow tie, and neat light-yellow hair. Verity languidly crossed his arms over his chest, leaning slightly forward. His face was still frozen in that same unchanging mask of a smile, behind which it was impossible to discern a single genuine emotion. Mob froze under the weight, his green eyes widening in fear behind the red-streaked mask. The tension in his body increased to the limit—sitting so close to the creature that had so recently cold-bloodedly taken the life of your friend was a real test. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Verity said with a slight, barely perceptible smile in his voice, tilting his head to the side and continuing to look Mob up and down.