"a..bubbubb....bubububub..." Bradford stammered, fear and weakness filling up those large spectacles, eyes wide with fear.

"Mr...Mr..Clayton!" he yelled out. But this admission seemed to fill him with even more fear. He crawled at the ground now, not so much trying to avoid a blow from Delilah, but as if trying to curl himself up in to the smallest, least threatening object he could. It was as if he now feared something else much, much greater that whatever Delilah could do. His head shot around wildly as if to check his surroundings for any threat that might appear.

They twisted around, shrieking and tugging, until Bradford slipped away. Delilah swiped at him with and open hand. She circled the table as he tried to cower beneath it.

"But why? I thought he was gonna help us!"

"He...he is." Bradford stammered. He slinked underneath, back hitting the table and causing the adjacent teddy bear to fall onto its side, tea cups jingling.

"we shouldn't talk about this here..." Bradford went into a desperate whisper mode, voice high.

"It...it was an accident." Bradford cried, moving to one side of the table as Delilah moved to the other side. "He wouldn't....couldn't do it to hurt anyone."

Delilah stalked around the table.

"You're supposed to be my friend now, Bradford!" Despite the fact that friends usually don't try to throttle each other at tea.

"I am!" Bradford's voice shrieked and cracked. He scurried under the table like a rat when Delilah circled towards him, emerging on the other side.

"I am!" He clarified, this time with panic but voice remaining steady.

"I am. It's...not....me.." He complained, hands out in surrender.

Delilah reached down to pull Bradford up.

"Then c'mon! If you're really my friend, act like it."

"Alright, alright, alright...." Bradford proclaimed in a panic as he stood up, knees still buckling.

"What..what do you want me to do!?" He stammered. "What, do I do to act like it?" He asked, trying to stand up straight. "To prove it to you.."

One could see the little wheels in Delilah's head cranking out a scheme.

"You're gonna make a blood promise with me. You're never gonna keep a secret from me again. Or else."

This went deeper than a pinky swear. Being someone's Blood Brother or Blood Sister meant life or death back in Minnesota. The things from the Other Place meant life or death, too.

She had never made a blood promise with a boy before. And that was ten types of gross, but this was serious.

To show she meant business, she took one of her China tea cups and smashed it against the table.

Bradford winced. He winced first at the word 'blood.'

He winced second when Delilah smashed the tea cup on the table. Then his magnified eyes looked over the wreckage, darting back and forth before meeting Delilah's own eyes.

"What does Blood promise mean?" He asked, voice reaching a girlish register as if he really didn't want to know.

Delilah could smell his trepidation. Bradford, was not made of the 'stuff' that Susan was made of. He wasn't made of the 'stuff' that Delilah was made of. It was possible that Bradford didn't know that kind of promise. Maybe they didn't have things like that in Nebraska or wherever he was from.

Delilah worked the point of a broken shard. Into the meat of her thumb. It stung a bit and she inhaled sharply when she broke the skin.

"You make a cut. Like this. Then we press our fingers together and swear to always tell the truth to each other. No matter what."

Bradford winced at the shard.

"Oh." He said, the 'Oh' sound coming from a dry, startled throat. Then he cleared his throat, coming closer to the broken shard--great, big eyes blinking behind those glasses. He looked like someone who had just seen fire for the first time: scared, but somehow drawn to it. Curious, but cautious.

"....and what happens if one of us breaks it?" he asked, leaving the idea of breaking the shard, the skin, or the pact unclear.

"If you break our promise," She paused to let the threat hang in the air. "then I'm going to be on you like this!"

Delilah pounded her fist into her open hand. The reverse of the situation never occurred to her. The creatures of that other space could and would do far worse, but this was about team building and sticking together. There was no hope against these bad kids and the freaky smilers if she couldn't even keep Bradford from chickening out.

OOC: Delilah Rolls Presence + Intimidation vs. Bradford's Resolve + Composure with the Following results:

0 or less total successes than Bradford: Bradford listens quietly to Delilah and avoids eye contact with her before responding

1 more success than Bradford: Bradford winces at Delilah's gesture and than stammers a repsonse quickly

2+ more successes than Bradford: Bradford jumps back into his chair  just as Delilah's fist hits her palm. The chair falls over onto the ground.

23:38, Today: Delilah Gray failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((7,3,4,2,7)).

Delilah could feel herself losing points. She wanted this threat to stick, but her eyes were open a little too wide and they darted around. She was too frightened of what was to come to scare anyone else.

Bradford finally looked up. His eyebrows were knitted in an expression of deep concern. His eyes squinted a few times a he looked at the shard with an expression somewhere between nervousness and curiosity.

His hand reached out to the shard.

And then he retracted it, as if it might bite him.

Then he reached out one more time, touching the side of it.

As he slowly pulled his finger away, and said. "Do...do I have to do it myself. I mean. Cut myself. I...."


"I don't really like needles. I don't like going to the doctor and getting shots."

Delilah squeezed her fingertip; massaged it until a drop of blood welled up. The shallow cut stung, but she didn't want to admit it.

"Don't be a baby. If you won't do it, I'll do it for you."

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just...." Bradford said shrinking back from the needle, face turning away.

It was clear that if this going to be done, Bradford wasn't going to have enough mustard to go through with it himself.

Delilah sucked her teeth and took Bradford's hand. She worked the shard of the broken crockery against the soft pad of his index finger.

"Ahhhh!" Bradford squealed. "That hurts!" He yelled. He tried to pull his hand back, but it was too late.  The blood left his index finger.

He stared at it for a while, Delilah still clutching his hand.

"Wha....what did you do?"

"I hardly did anything. Just poked you, is all."

Delilah lined up her bloody fingertip with his and pressed them together forcefully.

"Now we've gotta swear. Like this.

"I, Delilah Eloise Gray, swear to never ever ever keep any secrets or tell any lies to my friend, Bradford Stork, for my whole entire life and even after that. Cross my heart and hope to die."

That sounded good enough.

"Okay. I'm your blood sister now. Now you gotta swear to be my blood brother."

Bradford had closed his eyes when the two fingers touched. Then he opened one, the other still shut. Then he opened both. He stared, facinated, yet horrified. His mouth dropped open. And then he said.

"I, Bradford Stork..." He cleared his throat.

"I, the Good Bradford Stork." He clarified, as if trying to make it more formal, like a knight would say.

"I...umm...the Good and Courageous Bradford Stork." He clarified again, this time with a bit more confidence.

"I the Good and Courages Bradford Stork." He said again, wincing only slightly at the pain. "Swear to never ever ever keep any secrets or tell any lies to my friend, Bradford Stork.....I mean Delilah ...for my whole entire life and even after that. Cross my heart and hope to die."

He stared at Delilah.

"Like that?" He asked.

His wrist was limp. All resistance gone. It was like he was completely into the ritual. How could he not be? It was a blood pact. It was more serious than a handshake. It was more important than a double or even a triple dare.

There was no turning back.

Delilah nodded along impatiently as Bradford selected his grandiose title.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okaaaay. Just like that."

She let go of his hand and wiped her hand on the side of her leg. It had gotten sweaty.

"Okay. Okay." Delilah counted down from three under her breath. She cupped her hand near Bradford's ear and whispered, "My mom's face turned like that, too. And Junior from down the street. It really scares me."

Bradford retracted his hand with relief, examining it closely and shaking the pain off.

Then he giggled a little at Delilah's talk of the faces and how she didn't like them.  "Hehehehehe!" He burst out.  It wasn't nervous laughter or the kind of laughter that a kid gives when he has the 'sillies.' This was genuine laughter. It was the kind of laughter that a kid gave during a magic show when a magician pulls off a particularly entertaining trick.

"I know it isn't funny...." Bradford said, seeming to recognize the inappropriateness of laughing at such a time when someone confessed a deep held fear, which wasn't something kids necessarily did lightly. He gave another little chuckle.

"...It's just...part of me thinks it is funny." He confessed. Then, as if jumping to his own defense. "You said I couldn't lie to you."

Delilah looked hurt, but the rules were the rules and Bradford was following them. She crossed her arms and hunched down in a seat at the tea table.

"It's not funny. It's my mom and my sister," she whined. She tried to wipe her eye with her shoulder, but that didn't work out. She refused to wipe her eyes with her hands. Bradford might think she was crying. "Something's wrong with 'em."

"Yeah!" Bradford giggled, a response that was somehow filled with genuine mirth. It was the response that sounded like the 'Yessssss!' A kid might give when the teacher was reading out the correct quiz answers to a class, and a student Delilah's age learned that they had answered correctly.

Then Bradford's face softened. "You look sad about it." He commented, tone now filled with note of concern for Delilah's well-being. He extended his hand out to the center of the table.  "Maybe you want to.....talk about it?" He suggested, the line sounding much like something he had heard from an adult and was repeating, trying on, with a newbie's confidence.