Chapter Text
A doll and a toy, a boy and a goddess, a girl and a murderer walk into a teahouse.
This is the punchline:
“Osamu-kun,” the doll asks the toy, “Do you ever wonder if you're a doll?”
“What a silly question,” the boy tells the God. “A doll is much too kind a descriptor for me.”
The girl tilts her head, as the God smiles. “Do you think puppet is more accurate, then?”
The toy stares at her with wide eyes, before he laughs. “What about you, Madoka?” He asks her.
“Of course I'm a doll,” she replies. “Don't you know, this whole world is her tea party?”
“Who?” The murderer asks, blinking.
The girl blinked back. “Who, what?”
“Just who is this world a plaything to?”
The girl smiles nervously. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she says. The God smiles with her. “Osamu, she won't remember this conversation. She's the doll.”
The toy blinks, and blinks, and blinks. Then he smiled. “Madoka-kun, you are very interesting,” says the murderer.
The girl flushed. The doll smiled. The goddess laughed.
“So are you, Osamu-kun,” they demurred.
He laughs and doesn't stop.
(Neither does she.)