"You're shivering," he commented, thickly accented voice purring in her ear. She jumped, her shoulder knocking against his chin, and pressed onwards.
"I can see you, m'dear, if not with my eyes." He trudged past her. Even hunched over he was a good bit taller than her, the peak of his shoulders a full foot and a half over her head. Not that anyone could see her, to make the indication, the only visible trace of her existence smears of dirt and the leaves crunching.
He, on the other hand, would've stood out quite a bit, the horrid thing he was. Some of his skin was peeling off. He had grown unused to dirty environments. He peeled off his shirt, and draped it on her invisible shoulders, where it rested, betraying her shivering.
She clutched it around herself, and looked up at the night sky through the branches of trees.
"W-we should go back t-towards the town," she stammered, teeth clicking when she spoke.
"Nein. We will reach the next city in an hour, I'm certain of it."
She whimpered, and followed. Her hair felt tangled, the cold breeze made her skin burn, her feet ached and she couldn't tell if they were just wet and muddy, or bleeding. It was another twenty minutes of walking before she insisted they stop again, and he patiently waited as she sat against a tree and picked at moss.
"…We never should'a run," she finally grumbled. He didn't reply, looking up at the stars with mismatched eyes. "Seriously. It seemed like an awesome idea at the time, but right now? I feel like a dumbass kid who ran away from home. All I want is a bed and a blanket and a meal- even if it's that tasteless shit."
He nodded, and sighed, a wheezy and squeaking sound. "…I wish I had my books."
"Central heating!" she suggested, and he looked at her pitifully before wrapping an arm around her and picking her up, holding her to his fevered chest. She squirmed, but relented after a bit. "…Company."
"Aren't I fine company?"
"No offense, some of the D-Class are easier on the eyes than you, Frankenstein."
They chuckled. And stopped laughing the moment they came to the same realization.
"Fuck. We're domesticated," Claudia mumbled. "…We gotta go back. I don't wanna be out here… I'm tired of being cold and hungry! And unseen!"
"And as much as I hate to admit it, I rather preferred not having to go through the trouble of hunting." He smiled, slightly. "…I rather liked having access to tools, a lab, fresh meat."
"Speaking of fresh meat, if we're going to take going back seriously, there's one thing we should very much do beforehand."
He told her.
Their peals of hysterical laughter echoed through the forest.
The wee hours of dawn found the hostess at a Perkins in a small town looking up boredly from her example menu. Nobody at this ungodly hour but college kids with the munchies and people so old they no longer had any idea what time it was.
She stopped being bored when a monster whose his head scraped the ceiling (when he stood at full height) entered, next to… a floating coat.
Fuck, thought the hostess. I am so high right now.
SCP-542 and SCP-347 recovered in nearby restaurant. No incident except for a request to finish their meals and invitation of SCP-Retrieval Team 87-Sigma ["Windowbreakers"] to join them. Restaurant bill was paid in full, and all individuals administered minor-grade amnesiacs and preventative interviews. No civilians seemed alarmed at the presence of the SCPs.
Foundation "Soap From Corpses Inc." Business Credit Account charged for $25.97 plus a generous $10.00 tip, totaling $35.97