You look back at Boxcars.
“HUH? OH, NO. THANKFULLY, I GUESS.”
You don’t seem to notice your stabdad across the room.
Looks like your stabson is still a little afraid of Boxcars, but you’re relieved (more than you’d let on) he’s for the most part over the near-getting-eaten experience.
“Boxcars, make us some damn breakfast. I made it the last few times.”
You groan at Slick. But the mention of breakfast does remind you that you’re hungry. You have Karkat get off your stomach and then you get up and head to the kitchen. You all had sausage and eggs yesterday morning, so you make pancakes instead.
You glance at your stabson.
“So what the hell was that all about?”
You give him the same look.
“DOES IT EVEN MATTER?”
“…” You sigh and walk around the couch to sit down, ruffling your son’s hair as you reach for the remote and turn on the TV. Might as well take advantage of one of the few times Boxcars isn’t in the TV room.
God, you really do hate it when he does that. You roll your eyes and go into the kitchen, after all, being early might mean you might actually get to eat. While not as much afraid of your stabuncle anymore, that doesn’t mean his mouth isn’t a black hole that sucks in whatever it can get it’s hands on.