Aaaaand we're back!
Hah! Won't stay the night, huh?!
Oh. Okay. You were serious then. Keepin' up with your stellar rep by sneaking out after Rosy's fallen asleep. Keep it classy, Remington!
Good! We can work on forcing Remington to stick around.
This should help.
Aww... Keeping up with his confusing mixed messages, he leaves her a rose before she goes to greet him. Do you like her or not, guy?
You'd think I'm taking a picture of their kiss, but no. I'm taking a picture of them kissing in front of another goddamn hole.
"See, now this is how you flirt. VERY SERIOUSLY. MAKE THIS FACE. POINT A LOT. FLIRTING."
This is where Rosy reconsiders carrying his spawn.
She immediately vomitted afterwards. Could be pregnancy, could be regret.
Ah, hell. Ask him to move in anyway!
Huzzah! He accepts!
Well, with Remington's pathetic addition to the family bank account, they manage to build a terrifying second storey with only one window.
The gender-neutral, not scary at all nursery. Who needs windows or wallpaper or lights or furniture?!
With Remington now a member of the household, I get to give him a makeover! However, they have no money for new clothes, so he is resigned to his maid outfit for eternity.
Rosy needs a mid-day sleep as her motives suddenly drop dangerously. She seems to be in for a tough pregnancy.
I don't see WHY, though??? Procreating with the angry lounger??? Why would your unborn child be any trouble when s/he's half of this magnificent man?????
After getting up, throwing a book on the floor, answering the phone and screaming that Rosy was not available to talk, Remington tuckered himself out and went to sleep on the couch. For some reason.
Rosy continued to writhe in pregnant agony.
Somehow the walk from her bedroom to the kitchen bottomed out her full comfort bar. So, it's pretty much confirmed. She's carrying a demon.
I helped her get to somewhere more comfortable and then heard Remington screaming for me in the kitchen. Evidently, he's tired.
So get another plate of spaghetti! Sure! Makes perfect sense?!
Ah. I see. You needed a pillow.
Meanwhile, Rosy wandered outside for no reason except to make it impossible to get a shot of her belly popping.
Exhausted from eating and being uncomfortable, Rosy manages to collapse in the chair right outside her bedroom and fall asleep. I'm beginning to think this is less, "I'm Surrounded By Idiots", and more, "The Family of Idiots".
I help get her to bed...
... but can't do anything for this lost cause.
Well, §6 is enough to live off of...
You're literally RIGHT THERE! RIGHT IN FRONT!
Yeah, gross, isn't it? You stink now, huh? Gonna take a shower?
"THIS PLATE OF ROTTEN SPAGHETTI IS NOT MAKING ME CLEANER!!!!"
Yeah, try a grilled cheese. That might work.
"GET OFF ME, WOMAN!"
"I HAVE TO FIGURE OUT WHY EATING ISN'T MAKING ME NOT SMELL."
Theeeeere ya go, buddy. You did it!
"Did you know that a shower, not eating, will make your body clean?"
And with that stunning display of intelligence, Rosy decides it's time to pop the question.
Remington accepts, maybe because he knows she's the only person who can put up with his insanity, or maybe just because he is, in fact, insane.
And we might as well get the marriage out of the way now, too.
Naturally, Remington spends their first night as husband and wife on his beloved sofa.
And Rosy popped again, at some point.
Okay. 1. How on earth do you get so absolutely filthy all the time? And 2. I thought we had this sorted? Shower? Remember that place? Remember how easy that was??
At least Rosy is happy with it...?
I made Rosy watch the cooking channel to gain a skill point and miraculously! Remington joined her and started getting a skill point, too. Maybe he'll actually become useful?! (I feel like I'm getting my hopes up for nothing.)
After he lay on his special sofa for awhile, perhaps channelling his true demonic self, he arose from his rest to get a pot of ravioli out, yell at me about his sulphuric smell (likely from the evil trance he'd just emerged from), yell at me that he was hungry, and start cooking something else entirely. I think I was getting my hopes up with the cooking point.
I know you have to wash away the stench of hell that follows you everytime you sleep, but dude. The shower is right. there.
Uh-oh. Baby time!
Random because I don't hate myself enough yet.
Could be worse...
And my naming scheme for this ISBI Challenge is, "Let My Boyfriend Name All the Children". So, welcome to the family, Dracula and Freezer!
"Hey wow look at this, we have two little tiny humans somehow!"
I can't decide if Rosy's response would be one of equal surprise, or if the look on her face implies she's settled on full regret.