"Good morning, everyone," she says calmly, demurely, and sleepily. "I see I'm with entertaining company this time."
"Druid, how you doing?" Scout Minion says before looking back into the case of dozens upon dozens of old, weird, and classic DVDs.
Druid Minion waves back with a lightened expression, genuinely pleased to see someone even a chief introvert like herself would consider a loyal friend. "I'm doing well– figured a change of pace would be nice."
Maniac Minion scoffs before rising back to his feet, his mouth half full of crunched-up pretzels. "Wanted a change of pace from hugging trees so you can go and hug trees that have already been cut down and made into a cabin?" he asks, as sensitively as he's capable.
Druid Minion, generally a pretty level-headed sort, makes no shift in her expression but slowly reaches up to her hood to pull it off her antler-like antenna and reveal her face. "You know that's not what I really do, don't you?"
"Sure," he says before winning a razor-sharp glance from Scout Minion, who turned just far enough to look at him out of the corner of her eye. "I mean, yes, I do indeed. I'm sure we're gonna have a great weekend… huh, so why do we call it a weekend, anyway?"
"It's an otherworldly tradition," Druid Minion says, winning a nod from Scout and the clearing of the throat from Fashion Minion.
"Well, when I was still a little woodchuck, I understood that there was a certain cycle to the week, but I'd imagine that this whole weekend thing is a time to celebrate the ending days of the seven-day cycle, at least. So I've heard. People would come by the zoo more on weekends," he says.
Druid Minion gives a slightly bemused glance as Cardio Minion, the one with a really good answer, finally speaks up.
"So, it's like a human society thing. They work five days in a lot of their worlds, and so they take two off, then call it 'the weekend.' It works pretty well with most of their planetary calendars."
"Oh, so it's just some kind of weird human shit," Scout adds.
"It kind of makes sense that you guys wouldn't really know the origin of the word," Cardio Minion says before turning to the back of the cabin. She steps across the linoleum tile over to the breathtaking view of the lake. "I'm gonna to go for a short run. I'll be back in a bit, okay?"
" 'Course you are," Scout Minion says.
Cardio Minion just gives a short smile and nods. "Of course I am, but we can only deny our nature so much," she says with a light hearted scoff as she opens the screen door. "I mean… just look at all this!" she shouts from outside before cutting off at a light five-minute mile warmup pace.
Druid Minion hurries in with her things, which consist proudly of dried leaves, acorns, and some unspeakable powder-type stuff in nice little jars that she has hung up under her cloak by tiny little strings. Next, she lets out all of her bugs and her tiny little mammals and her bird friends, all living somewhere in her cloak, and they make their home somewhere in Scout Minion's room.
"I'm… sleeping in there," Scout Minion says.
"Well, that's okay. I'm just going to read some poetry for the night, if that's alright with you," Druid Minion reports cheerily.
Scout Minion's expression slants.
"Right… sure."
With a sigh, she turns back to the DVD cabinet wall. Fashion Minion reaches for a nice apron in the kitchen. "Oh, well just look at this. I'll get started on something!" he says with a winsome smile.
Scout Minion nods and says, "Sounds like a plan, Stan," and then looks back to the cabinet once again. She sighs.
"Anything good in there?" Maniac, now crashing out on the couch and eating from his little snack bowl, asks with an already-bored tone.
"It's mostly just Magic Minion's horror movies and Romance Minion's rom-coms."
"Why does she like horror movies so much?" Maniac asks.
Scout Minion pauses, glances over across to the kitchen where Fashion Minion is, and they both exchange a beguiled, humored smile.
It's true. They're not on necessarily good terms. Even though originally it was Fashion Minion that gave Scout Minion that close copy of Ski-Infantry Minion's scarf when she sent it in to Mending Minion for repairs that one time a few centuries ago, past that, they don't like each other very much. It's a very rare occasion in which they both relate to something well enough. In this case, their humor for how cluelessly naive Maniac Minion can be sometimes. It's times like this that they're able to reach over that barrier and connect. It's a bit wholesome in a cruel kind of way.
"She thinks the monsters are… cool," Scout says with a deflated tone.
"Huh," Maniac Minion gives a perplexed look as he ponders it over. "You know, I guess they are kind of cool."
This, of course, wins a quick chuckle from Fashion Minion.
"What?" Maniac asks.
"I'll say nothing, darling. Just an inside joke," he corrects.
Maniac Minion digs moodily into the sofa. "Psh, okay."
And that's all they say for quite a few minutes.
Druid Minion, still wearing her filthy cloak after putting up all her things, takes a big seat on the couch and nestles in like a tiny little bird covered in thread upon a grand nest.
Scout Minion can't seem to find anything that's really good. It's either the "saw it so many times it's boring" classic film, the kind of romantic comedy that melts a person's brain for the next hour and a half—or the kind of quote-unquote "horror" featuring bothersomely muscular monsters and murderers pursuing heroines in ways that could never be considered publishable under regular theatrical licenses.
"Yeah, I don't wanna watch any of this," Scout says.
"Why is everything so boring!?" Maniac Minion says, crashing his head back into the seat of the couch.
"It's not boring, dude. We haven't even started anything yet," Scout Minion says.
"This is what we're going to do all day?!"
She glances at them with an irritated look. "Well, no," Scout Minion snips back. "We can, like, go, I don't know, for walks and play games and watch movies and eat tasty food and sit by a fire and play music. It's going to be fine, dude," she says.
Maniac Minion scoffs. "Do any of us know how to play instruments?"
"Of course I do."
"Did you bring any?"
She looks away. "I mean, no, I mean, I thought we were going to do other things."
Minion crosses his arms before responding. "This is going to suck."
"Great. That was like three minutes," Scout Minion says. "New record for you."
"This is going to be the worst weekend ever," he exclaims. "I hate this. You guys are lame."
"Well, if you hate it so much, get lost, asshole," Scout hisses back.
"Already?" Fashion Minion sighs out.
Druid Minion's expression says it all: she's clearly irritated by their argument.
And as for Maniac Minion? He gets up from the couch, tossing aside the bowl into Druid Minion's lap, who barely catches it. "Yeah, I'm going to go up to the attic."
"For what?"
"Who knows, I might find some weed. Then it'll be cool again," he says with a scoff. "See you losers later."
He struts past the kitchen, passing by a smirking Fashion Minion, and around the corner to the upstairs, which leads only to the attic.
They listen to him creak up the stares for a moment before Scout pops her head over the couch. "Don't make him anything," she says.
"I heard that," Maniac snaps back.
Druid Minion pulls in a deep breath, and sighs. "I wonder when our last guy's getting here."
Scout looks over.
"Last guy?" Scout asks, still bent over with her face deep inside the cabinet, looking for one decent movie that she can actually watch without someone complaining,
"Well yes, there's supposed to be six of us to each cabin," she notes before reaching into the bowl and taking a quick handful of some of the now-crushed pretzels.
Scout Minion flinches.
She ponders the idea, and then the pondering became panicked pondering deep inside her. She lifts up a prayer to whatever spirit, deity, or demon would listen. Above all, she invokes the divine right of her father, the High Overlord himself—neither divine nor her father, but after having seen the things he had done, he might as well be both of them. "Please let it be somebody cool," she prays, hoping beyond hope as her mind reels through all the horrible, terrible folks that share the title of minion with her.
Trap Minion…
Crime Minion…
Pyromancer Hell Minion…
She shudders as she visualizes their grinning faces. If their number six is not yet known, then any of them might be showing up to add fuel to Maniac Minion's fire.
…Or even… perhaps Lady Minion?
No, that's too far. There's only six people out for each cabin, and she wouldn't be caught dead without her goon. Surely, she knows what would happen if she showed her face in front of Scout Minion again without protection.