Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2009-08-25 12:19 am
ptahrrific) wrote2009-08-25 12:19 am
Fake News: Four Times Aasif Shared His Food
Title: Four Times Aasif Shared His Food (And One Time Someone Shared With Him)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Foreplay
Characters/pairings: Aasif/Jason, Aasif/Sam/Jason, John Oliver, Rob Riggle, Jon, Larry, Wyatt, "Stephen"
Disclaimer:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin. Five stories about Aasif, the whole crew of correspondents, various types of food, and an Important Life Lesson about sharing.
Aasif's movie isn't out yet, but IMDb has the specs, and there's a nice article here that talks about the food. Also, special thanks tosirdrakesheir and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
canadian_plant for yelling at me to get this finished.
Mirror on the AO3.
एक / One.
"Who took my ham sandwich?"
Leaning forward, John Oliver fixed his visitor with his most solemn Investigative Reporter stare. In a tone of great intellectual curiosity, he said, "Can you tell us what it looked like?"
"What do you mean, what it looked like?" demanded Aasif. "It's a sandwich. Bread on the outside, meat in the middle bit. It was in the break room fridge, and now it's not. Which means someone took it. So was it you?"
"Wasn't either of us," said Rob. "But, listen, if you want a replacement, there's this great little deli right down the street..."
"Uh-uh. I'm not leaving this building. Do you realize audience members are already lining up out there?"
For a program Aasif had barely heard of before he started contributing, The Daily Show had a terrifyingly devoted fan base. He didn't regret accepting the promotion to full correspondent, but he was starting to appreciate the drawbacks.
"Yeah, excited teenage fangirls can be pretty scary," agreed Rob, subtly flexing his arms. "Want some muscle to escort you?"
Aasif held up his hands as he backed out of the office. "I'll pass. But if you hear anyth—whoa!"
"Hey!" yelped Sam's voice, letting him know who he had crashed into. "Watch where you're going, new guy!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Aasif backed away in a hurry. If you weren't at least a little bit scared of Sam, you weren't paying attention.
Her husband, behind her, was sort of hunched over, like she was dragging him down the hall on an invisible leash. Still, he winked at Aasif with a healthy amount of friendliness. "Nothing personal. We're just waiting for you to lose that new-guy smell."
Aasif decided not to complain that he had started contributing seven months ago, had in fact helped haze Rob shortly after that. Safer to just accept the role. "Any chance either of you would have stolen a new-guy-smell sandwich?"
Sam wrinkled her nose in concentration. "Maybe. What did it look like?"
"Oh, for the love of—"
"Hey, guys! Glad I caught you all together," broke in the charming voice of their illustrious host. Aasif had already gotten over the need to stand at attention when Jon Stewart entered the room, but he did take the hint and cut short his budding tirade; John and Rob also stuck their heads out the door to listen. "We've got an interview with this guy who's working on cloning meat, and I need a representative to fly out and handle it. Any takers?"
The correspondents exchanged a look, a compressed version of a complicated five-way exchange. Jon waited patiently, munching on a snack he must have forgotten to put down, during the silent negotiation: Anyone really eager to do this, so I should hold back? No? Great. Anyone desperate to get out of it, so I should come to their rescue? None of that either? All right. Now we can get to the dice-rolling.
Then Aasif looked back at Jon, and realized what he was holding.
"Hey, is that my sandwich?"
Jon glanced down at the bread in his hand. "What, this? No, I got it out of the fridge."
"That's where I left it! That's mine!"
"Are you sure? Because it kind of tasted like ham." Jon peeled apart the layers of bread. "Probably because it is. Aren't you not supposed to eat this stuff?"
"You're one to talk!"
"Hey!" interrupted Sam, clamping a hand down on Aasif's shoulder. "Semi-new-guy! You know one of the things we do in this place? We share."
♦
द्वि / Two.
As he opened the back doors of the Daily Show press van, Aasif was hit by a wave of stale air. Seven correspondents working a convention all day with no showers will do that.
"Sorry I'm late, guys," he said, slinging himself up over the rear bumper and squeezing into his seat, knees pressed together, greasy fast food bag held to his chest.
He was greeted with dead silence and wide-eyed stares.
Aasif forced a nervous laugh. "So, anyone get any really great sound bites today?"
"No," replied John dully, licking his lips. "Not a lot of 'bites'."
"Is that food?" added Sam, eyes locked onto Aasif's lap. "Smells like food."
"It's just nuggets and fries," admitted Aasif. "So it's on the borderline."
He jumped as a shadow fell over the chair: Larry, Rob, and Wyatt, still in their hoodies and bandanas from earlier that day, were towering above him. Rob in particular glared down at Aasif, over massive folded biceps. "I hope you brought enough to share."
"Come on, guys." Aasif resisted the temptation to laugh. "Are you trying to intimidate me with the same routine we used on Anderson Cooper this afternoon? Because it doesn't work when I know you. Larry, you got that shirt at Nordstrom's. Wyatt, that's not a gang sign, it's American Sign Language for 'algebra'."
The would-be gang slouched awkwardly. "Sorry, man," said Wyatt, shoulders hunched. "It's just...we haven't gotten a whole lot to eat today, what with all the hard work of trying to find politicians saying stupid things, and we're really, really hungry. You know?"
"Hey, any of you could have dropped by a fast food place too." With that, Aasif quit craning his neck to look up at them...
...and promptly came face to face with Jason, who was kneeling at his feet and pouting like a basset hound.
"Aw, come on," protested Aasif weakly. "Don't look at me like that. They'll have food back at the hotel. It's not like I'm starving you, here...."
Jason didn't say a word. He just stuck out his lower lip a little bit farther, let his eyes mist a little bit more.
Aasif sighed.
"Fine," he grumbled, holding the bag at arm's length. "Dig in."
"Mr. Mandvi, you are an angel," gushed John. Aasif barely heard it over the rest of the mob.
♦
त्रि / Three.
The gnawing in Aasif's stomach had just receded to a dull but ignoreable ache when an intern showed up with a three-box-high stack of jelly donuts, and a five-minute break in the writing was declared to polish them off.
He was resolutely focused on the clock (three minutes, twenty-two seconds to go) when Wyatt nudged him with an elbow. "Hey, A-man. You better hurry, or somebody's gonna take yours."
"I don't mind."
This startled Wyatt enough that he stopped wolfing down his own prize. "You sure?" he asked, around a mouthful of dough and powdered sugar. "Have you tried them? Because they're really good."
"I'll pass."
"Like, really good," continued Wyatt. "Amazingly good. Orgasmically good. Just one bite, you won't regret it, I promise...."
"Dude!" interrupted Jason from across the table. "Lay off! He's got the thing, okay?"
"What?"
"The thing," repeated Jason, gesturing with his hand as if he could snatch the word out of the air. "The Muslim thing. The not-eating thing. The bettering-yourself-spiritually-through-ritual-expression-of-devotion-by-fasting-during-daylight-hours...thing."
Sam sighed. "Ramadan, dear."
"Yeah, that!" Jason flashed a grateful crooked smile at his wife, then snapped back to Wyatt with a stern glare. "That thing."
"Ooh." Wyatt swallowed sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Didn't know."
"Don't worry about it." Aasif glanced at the clock, then realized he had completely lost track of time. Huh.
"Hey, uh," added Wyatt, hesitating (but only long enough to lick strawberry jam from his fingers), "if you're not eating right now, can I have your donut?"
He looked so earnest that Aasif had to smile. "Go for it."
♦
चतुर् / Four.
The local Tandoori Palace has never catered a movie premiere before, but Aasif figures he kind of owed it to them.
All the current correspondents are in the crowd, along with a few alumns. Even Colbert showed up, though he seems to have smuggled in a bucket of his own seven-meat chili. Not that Aasif minds, not when everyone else is enjoying the food (or at least, making a valiant effort at picking through it).
More importantly, they're all talking about how much they enjoyed the movie. He's lost count of how many times he's been slapped on the back. To say nothing of the fact that Jason just sidled up and offered to congratulate him more extensively after dinner, if-you-know-what-I-mean, wink, wink.
Jason has barely moved on before the next admirer steps into place place. "Tremendous film, Aasif," Jon pronounces, a half-finished plate of chicken tikka masala in front of him and a splotch of what looks like korma sauce on the front of his shirt. "Now, do you actually know how to make all these dishes?"
"Of course," deadpans Aasif. "What kind of lousy chef do you think I am? I made this whole meal, couldn't you tell?"
Jon breaks into his trademark startled-rabbit expression, the one he always gets when you say something outrageous in a loud voice with a straight face. There's no way the crew would tease him half so much if he didn't look so adorable when you play with him.
Aasif lets him squirm for a moment, then decides to have mercy. "Kidding," he grins. "You'll want to talk to Madhur; he's the guy with the cooking show. Here, I'll introduce you."
"You did get sort of inspired by the food and culture you grew up with, though, right?" continues Jon, as he and Aasif thread their way among the tables to where Madhur and a film critic from the Times are talking.
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
Jon shrugs. "It was nice, having a glimpse into your background. I appreciated it. That's all I wanted to say."
Aasif is absolutely not blushing. Not in the least.
♦
पञ्च / Five.
Jason tastes like kozhukatta, all coconut and sugar and just a dash of cardamom, and Aasif wonders vaguely whether the man even bothered with dinner or just skipped straight to dessert.
But only vaguely, because he's being pushed down onto a plush hotel bed at the time, which means that most of his attention is on the hips rocking against his, on tangling one hand through Jason's curls and pulling the man in for another kiss.
"You're absolutely certain Sam won't mind?" he asks for the third time, after getting a chance to catch his breath while Jason nibbles on his earlobe.
"Mmmm." Expert hands dispose of his tie and start unbuttoning his shirt. (His dinner jacket and black socks are already lying forgotten in a corner.) "She might be a little mad that we're starting without her...."
"What?"
Exactly on cue, the door buzzes to announce an entry. Aasif yelps and clutches his shirt closed; Sam, oblivious to his distress, plops down on the other double bed and starts kicking off her shoes.
"Aw, honey, you couldn't ask Aasif if he wanted to do that first?" protests Jason, now propped up on his elbows over Aasif's prone and half-dressed body. He's not a large guy, but Aasif is still grateful for the shield.
"Sorry, dear, but it couldn't wait," declares Sam, now shedding jewelry. "My feet were killing me. Nothing up against the wall tonight, I'm afraid." She glances down at Aasif. "How come he looks so freaked out?"
"Dunno. Hey, Aasif, you okay there?"
"F-fine," stammers Aasif. "It's just, uh...." He nods apologetically in Sam's direction, and confesses, in a small voice, "She kind of scares me."
Sam lets out a theatrical gasp. "Scary? Me? Don't be ridiculous. I'm a total pussycat." She adds her rings to the watch and string of pearls lying on the end table, then stops to strike a pose, smiling prettily at Jason. "Isn't that right, sugar lump?"
"Absolutely, muffincakes."
Aasif swallows. From this position he really can't help but notice the swell of Sam's breasts, and there's a faint suggestion of crimson under her shirt that he's pretty sure is not a natural skin tone, and, well, to make a long story short, he's suddenly very interested in finding out whether she tastes like coconut.
But old habits die hard, especially the ones designed for survival.
"Listen, I just want to be absolutely clear," he says, interrupting the increasingly sugary ocular lovefest the other two have going on. "This is an offer of a hot threesome, and not some kind of weird prelude to you murdering me for getting busy with your husband, right?"
Smirking, Sam hops over to join them, knees bouncing on the bedspread.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" she demands, arching against Jason in a way that sets both men shuddering with anticipated ecstasy. "One of the things we do at this show? We share."
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Foreplay
Characters/pairings: Aasif/Jason, Aasif/Sam/Jason, John Oliver, Rob Riggle, Jon, Larry, Wyatt, "Stephen"
Disclaimer:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin. Five stories about Aasif, the whole crew of correspondents, various types of food, and an Important Life Lesson about sharing.
Aasif's movie isn't out yet, but IMDb has the specs, and there's a nice article here that talks about the food. Also, special thanks to
sirdrakesheir and canadian_plant for yelling at me to get this finished.Mirror on the AO3.
एक / One.
"Who took my ham sandwich?"
Leaning forward, John Oliver fixed his visitor with his most solemn Investigative Reporter stare. In a tone of great intellectual curiosity, he said, "Can you tell us what it looked like?"
"What do you mean, what it looked like?" demanded Aasif. "It's a sandwich. Bread on the outside, meat in the middle bit. It was in the break room fridge, and now it's not. Which means someone took it. So was it you?"
"Wasn't either of us," said Rob. "But, listen, if you want a replacement, there's this great little deli right down the street..."
"Uh-uh. I'm not leaving this building. Do you realize audience members are already lining up out there?"
For a program Aasif had barely heard of before he started contributing, The Daily Show had a terrifyingly devoted fan base. He didn't regret accepting the promotion to full correspondent, but he was starting to appreciate the drawbacks.
"Yeah, excited teenage fangirls can be pretty scary," agreed Rob, subtly flexing his arms. "Want some muscle to escort you?"
Aasif held up his hands as he backed out of the office. "I'll pass. But if you hear anyth—whoa!"
"Hey!" yelped Sam's voice, letting him know who he had crashed into. "Watch where you're going, new guy!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Aasif backed away in a hurry. If you weren't at least a little bit scared of Sam, you weren't paying attention.
Her husband, behind her, was sort of hunched over, like she was dragging him down the hall on an invisible leash. Still, he winked at Aasif with a healthy amount of friendliness. "Nothing personal. We're just waiting for you to lose that new-guy smell."
Aasif decided not to complain that he had started contributing seven months ago, had in fact helped haze Rob shortly after that. Safer to just accept the role. "Any chance either of you would have stolen a new-guy-smell sandwich?"
Sam wrinkled her nose in concentration. "Maybe. What did it look like?"
"Oh, for the love of—"
"Hey, guys! Glad I caught you all together," broke in the charming voice of their illustrious host. Aasif had already gotten over the need to stand at attention when Jon Stewart entered the room, but he did take the hint and cut short his budding tirade; John and Rob also stuck their heads out the door to listen. "We've got an interview with this guy who's working on cloning meat, and I need a representative to fly out and handle it. Any takers?"
The correspondents exchanged a look, a compressed version of a complicated five-way exchange. Jon waited patiently, munching on a snack he must have forgotten to put down, during the silent negotiation: Anyone really eager to do this, so I should hold back? No? Great. Anyone desperate to get out of it, so I should come to their rescue? None of that either? All right. Now we can get to the dice-rolling.
Then Aasif looked back at Jon, and realized what he was holding.
"Hey, is that my sandwich?"
Jon glanced down at the bread in his hand. "What, this? No, I got it out of the fridge."
"That's where I left it! That's mine!"
"Are you sure? Because it kind of tasted like ham." Jon peeled apart the layers of bread. "Probably because it is. Aren't you not supposed to eat this stuff?"
"You're one to talk!"
"Hey!" interrupted Sam, clamping a hand down on Aasif's shoulder. "Semi-new-guy! You know one of the things we do in this place? We share."
द्वि / Two.
As he opened the back doors of the Daily Show press van, Aasif was hit by a wave of stale air. Seven correspondents working a convention all day with no showers will do that.
"Sorry I'm late, guys," he said, slinging himself up over the rear bumper and squeezing into his seat, knees pressed together, greasy fast food bag held to his chest.
He was greeted with dead silence and wide-eyed stares.
Aasif forced a nervous laugh. "So, anyone get any really great sound bites today?"
"No," replied John dully, licking his lips. "Not a lot of 'bites'."
"Is that food?" added Sam, eyes locked onto Aasif's lap. "Smells like food."
"It's just nuggets and fries," admitted Aasif. "So it's on the borderline."
He jumped as a shadow fell over the chair: Larry, Rob, and Wyatt, still in their hoodies and bandanas from earlier that day, were towering above him. Rob in particular glared down at Aasif, over massive folded biceps. "I hope you brought enough to share."
"Come on, guys." Aasif resisted the temptation to laugh. "Are you trying to intimidate me with the same routine we used on Anderson Cooper this afternoon? Because it doesn't work when I know you. Larry, you got that shirt at Nordstrom's. Wyatt, that's not a gang sign, it's American Sign Language for 'algebra'."
The would-be gang slouched awkwardly. "Sorry, man," said Wyatt, shoulders hunched. "It's just...we haven't gotten a whole lot to eat today, what with all the hard work of trying to find politicians saying stupid things, and we're really, really hungry. You know?"
"Hey, any of you could have dropped by a fast food place too." With that, Aasif quit craning his neck to look up at them...
...and promptly came face to face with Jason, who was kneeling at his feet and pouting like a basset hound.
"Aw, come on," protested Aasif weakly. "Don't look at me like that. They'll have food back at the hotel. It's not like I'm starving you, here...."
Jason didn't say a word. He just stuck out his lower lip a little bit farther, let his eyes mist a little bit more.
Aasif sighed.
"Fine," he grumbled, holding the bag at arm's length. "Dig in."
"Mr. Mandvi, you are an angel," gushed John. Aasif barely heard it over the rest of the mob.
त्रि / Three.
The gnawing in Aasif's stomach had just receded to a dull but ignoreable ache when an intern showed up with a three-box-high stack of jelly donuts, and a five-minute break in the writing was declared to polish them off.
He was resolutely focused on the clock (three minutes, twenty-two seconds to go) when Wyatt nudged him with an elbow. "Hey, A-man. You better hurry, or somebody's gonna take yours."
"I don't mind."
This startled Wyatt enough that he stopped wolfing down his own prize. "You sure?" he asked, around a mouthful of dough and powdered sugar. "Have you tried them? Because they're really good."
"I'll pass."
"Like, really good," continued Wyatt. "Amazingly good. Orgasmically good. Just one bite, you won't regret it, I promise...."
"Dude!" interrupted Jason from across the table. "Lay off! He's got the thing, okay?"
"What?"
"The thing," repeated Jason, gesturing with his hand as if he could snatch the word out of the air. "The Muslim thing. The not-eating thing. The bettering-yourself-spiritually-through-ritual-expression-of-devotion-by-fasting-during-daylight-hours...thing."
Sam sighed. "Ramadan, dear."
"Yeah, that!" Jason flashed a grateful crooked smile at his wife, then snapped back to Wyatt with a stern glare. "That thing."
"Ooh." Wyatt swallowed sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Didn't know."
"Don't worry about it." Aasif glanced at the clock, then realized he had completely lost track of time. Huh.
"Hey, uh," added Wyatt, hesitating (but only long enough to lick strawberry jam from his fingers), "if you're not eating right now, can I have your donut?"
He looked so earnest that Aasif had to smile. "Go for it."
चतुर् / Four.
The local Tandoori Palace has never catered a movie premiere before, but Aasif figures he kind of owed it to them.
All the current correspondents are in the crowd, along with a few alumns. Even Colbert showed up, though he seems to have smuggled in a bucket of his own seven-meat chili. Not that Aasif minds, not when everyone else is enjoying the food (or at least, making a valiant effort at picking through it).
More importantly, they're all talking about how much they enjoyed the movie. He's lost count of how many times he's been slapped on the back. To say nothing of the fact that Jason just sidled up and offered to congratulate him more extensively after dinner, if-you-know-what-I-mean, wink, wink.
Jason has barely moved on before the next admirer steps into place place. "Tremendous film, Aasif," Jon pronounces, a half-finished plate of chicken tikka masala in front of him and a splotch of what looks like korma sauce on the front of his shirt. "Now, do you actually know how to make all these dishes?"
"Of course," deadpans Aasif. "What kind of lousy chef do you think I am? I made this whole meal, couldn't you tell?"
Jon breaks into his trademark startled-rabbit expression, the one he always gets when you say something outrageous in a loud voice with a straight face. There's no way the crew would tease him half so much if he didn't look so adorable when you play with him.
Aasif lets him squirm for a moment, then decides to have mercy. "Kidding," he grins. "You'll want to talk to Madhur; he's the guy with the cooking show. Here, I'll introduce you."
"You did get sort of inspired by the food and culture you grew up with, though, right?" continues Jon, as he and Aasif thread their way among the tables to where Madhur and a film critic from the Times are talking.
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
Jon shrugs. "It was nice, having a glimpse into your background. I appreciated it. That's all I wanted to say."
Aasif is absolutely not blushing. Not in the least.
पञ्च / Five.
Jason tastes like kozhukatta, all coconut and sugar and just a dash of cardamom, and Aasif wonders vaguely whether the man even bothered with dinner or just skipped straight to dessert.
But only vaguely, because he's being pushed down onto a plush hotel bed at the time, which means that most of his attention is on the hips rocking against his, on tangling one hand through Jason's curls and pulling the man in for another kiss.
"You're absolutely certain Sam won't mind?" he asks for the third time, after getting a chance to catch his breath while Jason nibbles on his earlobe.
"Mmmm." Expert hands dispose of his tie and start unbuttoning his shirt. (His dinner jacket and black socks are already lying forgotten in a corner.) "She might be a little mad that we're starting without her...."
"What?"
Exactly on cue, the door buzzes to announce an entry. Aasif yelps and clutches his shirt closed; Sam, oblivious to his distress, plops down on the other double bed and starts kicking off her shoes.
"Aw, honey, you couldn't ask Aasif if he wanted to do that first?" protests Jason, now propped up on his elbows over Aasif's prone and half-dressed body. He's not a large guy, but Aasif is still grateful for the shield.
"Sorry, dear, but it couldn't wait," declares Sam, now shedding jewelry. "My feet were killing me. Nothing up against the wall tonight, I'm afraid." She glances down at Aasif. "How come he looks so freaked out?"
"Dunno. Hey, Aasif, you okay there?"
"F-fine," stammers Aasif. "It's just, uh...." He nods apologetically in Sam's direction, and confesses, in a small voice, "She kind of scares me."
Sam lets out a theatrical gasp. "Scary? Me? Don't be ridiculous. I'm a total pussycat." She adds her rings to the watch and string of pearls lying on the end table, then stops to strike a pose, smiling prettily at Jason. "Isn't that right, sugar lump?"
"Absolutely, muffincakes."
Aasif swallows. From this position he really can't help but notice the swell of Sam's breasts, and there's a faint suggestion of crimson under her shirt that he's pretty sure is not a natural skin tone, and, well, to make a long story short, he's suddenly very interested in finding out whether she tastes like coconut.
But old habits die hard, especially the ones designed for survival.
"Listen, I just want to be absolutely clear," he says, interrupting the increasingly sugary ocular lovefest the other two have going on. "This is an offer of a hot threesome, and not some kind of weird prelude to you murdering me for getting busy with your husband, right?"
Smirking, Sam hops over to join them, knees bouncing on the bedspread.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" she demands, arching against Jason in a way that sets both men shuddering with anticipated ecstasy. "One of the things we do at this show? We share."
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Smirking, Sam hops over to join them, knees bouncing on the bedspread.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" she demands, arching against Jason in a way that sets both men shuddering with anticipated ecstacy. "One of the things we do at this show? We share."
Okay, that? Pure, unfettered win smothered in a delightful, mouthwatering awesomesauce and topped a cherry of incredibly hot for good measure.
So much love. (Something Aasif most certainly needs way more of.)
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I don't think Aasif had a really clear voice in his early days. Either he's gotten better at it, or I've just gotten used to him. He does "loud and indignant", without hysterics (unlike, say, "Stephen"), pretty well. In fact, I think he's better at deadpan than at emotion in general.
And, of course, Sam/Jason/everyone is my head!canon. :3
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Sam/Jason/anyone is vastly underappreciated, I think.
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I really liked all of them, but three and four were my favorites. They were just so cute (four might be slightly more my favorite because I love Jon being adorable like he is). Not much to say other than really wonderful and cute.
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Thanks ^_^
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Lmao, excellent.
Number two is my favorite. I like how they immediately switch to begging after Aasif deflates them. It's so like them. They don't know shame and they will try absolutely anything.
Jon breaks into his trademark startled-rabbit expression
I bet that's not what you had in mind, but I can't help but imagine the cookie-stealing rabbit there.
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I had never seen that rabbit before, so I am very glad to have had the pleasure.
Glad you like!
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