No idea what to call this (anyone can join) (FINISHED)

Ivchenko was a rather tall, imposing figure according to some people. He disagreed, though.
Said figure had caught wind of a conversation ongoing during a walk. And normally, Ivchenko would’ve slipped past without much thought, but it was a bit different this time for whatever reason. There appeared to have been a situation going on - it seemed he was arriving late to the whole thing. Shame. He would’ve liked to have seen what was happening.

So, with his arms behind his back, he strolled on forwards towards the home, remaining eerily silent until he was right behind the group. He stopped - and with a short pause, greeted. “Hallo. Am I interrupting anything?”

"Jesus Christ, mate, would you calm down? So you're keeping some random kid at your house, then, which is just weird and also just sort of perverty, if you ask me, and then have the nerve to get offended and insult me when I ask if you're her father?" Beckett laughed, holding his injured wrist to his chest. "Lemme tell you, Mister Face-For-The-Radio, it's weirder if she's not your kid."

"Yeah, so that wouldn't hold up in court," Beckett said. "Listen, I'm no law student, but I doubt that would get you exonerated. Why not kick her out if she's not your kid? Why're you keeping her here? Kids don't just randomly run into peoples' houses. I would know, seeing as I'm practically still one."

“No, it is not.” Ivechenko responded, any expression hidden by the completely black mask he wore. “Why do you feel a need to attempt to provoke me?” He questioned. Ivchenko remained still, seemingly staring without breaking any eye contact whatsoever.

"s'not an excuse, you know. Just because a kid jumps on your goddamn couch doesn't mean you can just let them fall to their death in the middle of the night," Beckett said. "Listen, Pepper–can I call you Pepper? I'm calling you Pepper–d'you even have anywhere to go?"

"Yeah, okay, I'm not letting you kick some little girl onto the streets just because you decided you didn't want her!" Beckett protested. "Listen, Pepper, if you don't have anywhere to go and that jackass won't let you stay, you can come with me, I guess. I'm sure there's something interesting open at…" he glanced at his watch, but the glass had cracked from his fall. "Whatever time it is here."

“Ouh,” Seems that he came at a wrong time.

Ivchenko looked to the other man and young girl, before nodding towards them. “If you two are getting sent off, may I join you? Seems that I won’t be welcome here, either. Shame.”

"Gee thanks, jackass," Beckett snapped. "What a nice little fucking mess of a town you've got here! My hometown is far better, and it's in goddamn Wisconsin, and a college town." He scowled at the tall man, then turned to Pepper.
"D'you have anywhere to go, or was that pervert's place all you had?"

"Great, so'm I," Beckett said with an eyeroll. "Beckett Randall, resident asexual, unhappy to meet ya."
Wow, that was not a sentence he'd normally say. Maybe the sleep deprivation of the past few days–weeks?–was catching up to him after all. Or the pain in his wrist was finally getting to him. Maybe he'd even concussed himself when he'd fallen. Now that would be his excellent luck.

"Sorry, I think I was talking to the candy kid, and not…whatever you're supposed to be," Beckett said with a vague gesture at Vozrael. "Is it Halloween or something? Cuz I left my costume at home…not that it matters, really, since only the goddamn English majors would get the costume, and they're all pretentious assholes anyways."
He ran his fingers across his injured wrist and gave a sharp hiss of pain. Goddamn rotten Halloween this'd be, if it even was Halloween. He'd sort of lost track of, well, everything.

"What's a Hall-ow-een?" Peppermint rocked back and forth on her heels, looking up at Beckett.

"Shit, really?" Beckett said, and gave a low whistle. "Well I'm awful sorry for your tailer, sir."
He glanced at Peppermint, wondering if her…unusual attire was some sort of costume or just a childishly obnoxious outfit, like the neons and frills that decorated every department store.

"What's Halloween?" Beckett said, and faked a scandalized gasp. "Say, what kinda parents do you have anyways? It's only the best night of the year. You get to dress up and all, and then go door-to-door and get candy, which kinda contradicts everything moral they beat into us for the first eighteen years of our lives–'Don't take candy from strangers, Beckett' and all that–but it's fun. Socially unacceptable once you're an adult, but fun when you can."

Ivchenko adjusted his coat, looking at the group. He hadn’t moved much since arriving here, and decided to observe for now. As he usually did.