Dan stood behind the closed kitchen door, his ear pressed to the wood. He'd heard the sound of the lock of his door splintering minutes early, and rushed to the hall. Rorschach didn't care that Dan would let him in if he knocked, or that windows were cheaper to replace, or that the door had been unlocked in the first place.
Dan could hear him moving straight for the table, where there was a small stack of white, granular cubes. Dan stiffled a snort of laughter, clapping his hands over his mouth when he heard Rorschach pause, as though listening for something. He pressed himself against the kitchen door again, listening intently.
He knew the instant Rorschach put one of the cubes in his mouth. A horrified GRRGH and the noise of furious spitting came from the other room.
Dan burst through the door, grinning and laughing. "April fool's, Rorschach!" he shouted. "I switched the sugar cubes for salt cubes."
Dan wasn't stupid He expected some sort of retaliation, probably in the form of a fist to the solar plexus. It was worth it for the look of horror on Rorschach's mask. The shifting ink blots were furiously gathering around the heat from Rorschach's cheeks, forming shapes that looked like two birds fighting.
No, Dan wasn't stupid, so when Rorschach said "Good joke, Daniel," and started forward, Dan cut off his laughter with a choked giggle and stepped backward.
"I thought so," he said, gulping. "It- I've been waiting all night for you to-"
He broke off abruptly as Rorschach grabbed his hand. With a swift crack, one of Dan's fingers was hanging crooked from a knuckle. It took a second for the pain to reach him – a second during which he just stared dumbly at the crooked digit – but when it did he let out a manly shriek and clutched his hand to his chest.
The pain shot up through his hand at the movement and he shouted again. "What the fuck did you do that for?"
The blots on Rorschach's mask were shifting calmly across the fabric. "April fool's, Daniel."