trans_9 | Delicious, but probably not nutritious

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Delicious, but probably not nutritious

shuffle

shuffleshuffle

CRASH

...

shuffleshuffle

These are the sounds coming from the Equipment Lockers right now, as the ship's resident little green(-ish) alien loots through it, looking for nothing in particular.

Oliver has come across a couple things he seems to like, though. He seemed to enjoy playing with an old lighter he found ~~Yay fire!~~, as well as a military-style helmet (which he's currently wearing, too big even for his oddly-shaped insect head).

Yet it seems to be a lone, ratty old shoe that seems to interest him the most...particularly when he tears off the rubber from the bottom of it and starts eating it.

...He certainly seems to be enjoying himself, at least.

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Hunter's been poking around Weapons and Possessions, too, but he's got more of a purpose to his search: books. Specifically, medical or anatomy textbooks, but so far all he's run across are a: trashy romance novels, b: diaries, or c: written about things he's never even heard of. (Well, of course he had to flip through them. And possibly read them. It's fairly safe to say that he's been in Weapons and Possessions for a while.)

He jumps a little as he hears a crash coming from somewhere behind him, whirling around to face the source of the noise. "Hello?"

The noises stop for a moment, and Oliver peeks his head out from behind the massive pile of random stuff he was hiding behind, bits of fillet of sole *ba-dum-bum-pish* his...snack...hanging from his mandibles.

He gives a little wave to Hunter. He'd say hi, but his mouth is full.

Oh-kay. An alien. That was... well, it was better than what Hunter had been expecting, to be honest. "Um. Hi." he says, giving the tiny alien a slightly nervous smile.

"Hi!" he chirps (quite literally), after gulping down the last of the shoe. "Who're you?"

Cheerful little fellow. Not the greatest on etiquette, though.

"I-I'm Hunter. It's nice to meet you..." Hunter says, tucking his latest book back in the pile he found it in. He'd love to come in here and organize things, but he's bored, not suicidal.

"I'm Oliver," he says, climbing over his pile to get a better look at Hunter.

"Are you looking for stuff too?"

"... um, yes. I'm looking for a book, actually." Hunter says, as if talking to a small alien eating a shoe and wearing a very large military helment were the most normal thing in the world. (Which it clearly isn't.)

"Oh," he says, almost disappointedly. Books were boring! All this other stuff is so much cooler!

"What kinda book?"

Pfft. Books are so much cooler than most of the stuff in here.

Hunter snags another book from the pile, quickly flipping through the pages in an effort to see anything he recognizes. "A medical textbook. ... well, um, a human medical textbook." He's starting to have to clarify these things onboard the meatship.

Oliver tilts his head slightly.

"Why?"

He's a rather inquisitive child.

"It's usually a good thing if your healer knows something about anatomy and physiology." Hunter says, slightly sarcastically. He's not quite sure if it's necessary, but he'd rather know more than less about the human body if he's going to have to fix it at one point or another.

What the heck is that thing?!

Is what Zuko's expression says, as he balks at the sight of the little . . . bug thing munching on a shoe. WHOSE shoe?

"Get that out of your mouth!"

It's neither healthy, nor does it look like Oliver could wear it.

Oliver jumps slightly at Zuko's voice, not expecting anyone else to be there.

He looks over at Zuko, and then makes a noise which vaguely sounds like a muffled "NO!" as he digs himself deeper into his pile of stuff.

IT'S HIS SHOE YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY >(

It looks like one of the bug-things the crew fought that one time. But more human. It's more than a little offputting to Zuko, who's barely used to Ax as it is.

"That's not for eating." He reaches out to try and snatch the shoe. "That belongs to someone else. Give it back."

Oliver's not quite as quick as a trained martial artist, so Zuko wouldn't have too much trouble snatching it from him.

Of course, this just means that he now has a ruined, chewed, slobber-covered shoe in his hand...

"Give it back!" he yells. "No one was using it!"

In Oliver's mind, of course, this means that it was fair game.

It's . . . a little weird that it can talk. Or that Zuko can understand it. He might not ever get used to this.

"Yeah, and now nobody CAN." Zuko frowns at the little bug thing. It talks like a kid - maybe it is one. "You know there's a cafeteria, right?"

The little alien looks defiantly up at Zuko.

"Where I'm from, we learn to get food wherever and whenever we can find it, 'cause you never know when your current source is gonna run out."

Even in a place like this, where a meal is practically always guaranteed, he still lives by the rules of survival of District 9.

"Well this isn't where you're from, and these aren't your things to eat." Pause. "This isn't even food. If you're so concerned with your foodsource, and getting it while you have it, you should be getting the food that actually IS food while you have some."

He inspects the kid - bug thing - looking for a collar or ear or some other portion that it looks like he can drag him with if he has to. So far he only sees antennae, and he's not going to grab those. They might pop off, and even Zuko knows that would be a bit of a social faux-pas.

plz to not be pulling on the antennae kthxbai

Oliver huffs angrily and crosses his arms, not looking straight at Zuko anymore.

"I haven't ever had a steady food supply before," he mutters reluctantly. "I don't trust it."

"If the food supply was poisoned, we'd all have died long ago."

That's it, Zuko, feed into the kid's paranoia.

"Yeah, but you're HUMANS. How do I know it's not gonna hurt ME?"

Admittedly, he has been eating from the cafeteria. But since he's a kid, he doesn't like being proven wrong.

"How do you know shoes won't?"

She was walking past, checking for some extra arrows that might have been missed when she heard the noises and ran.

"Hey everything ok?" Kate called out.

A small, muffled "I'm fine!" comes from behind the massive pile of random stuff, before the little alien peeks his head out to see who's talking to him.

Kate was briefly surprised and tensed, thinking of the roaches that attacked some time ago. But something about the too big helmet, and the voice. Kind of well, cute actually.

"You sure you... uh, that's not really a food? There's stuff in the cafeteria. Granted it's slop, but it's edible?"

Interesting, watching the child trawl through the belongings of others. He did it with a practiced vulturism; he was experienced at this, as if sifting through garbage for edibles was a regular practice for him. Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether to be amused or worried, so he settled for a rueful little half-smile as he leaned against the row of lockers.

"Oliver," He asked conversationally, "Just what is it you're doing?"

Eep.

Oliver slowly turns his head to face Obi-Wan, with a look on his face that, on a human, might belong on a child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"...Nothin'."

"Really," Obi-Wan drawled, more or less completely unconvinced, "It looks to me like you're going through things that belong to other people."

Oliver quickly throws the helmet he was wearing back into the pile of stuff.

"Nuh uh."

Oliver Johnson. Master of deception.

Master of deception, indeed. A warm chuckle colors Obi-Wan's voice as he replies, "Be that as it may, I can think of a few people who would be less than pleased to find you here. What are you looking for?"

"I was just looking around," he says simply. "There's lots of neat stuff in here!"

"I'm sure there is," he conceded, and crouched down to the child's level, "Oliver, tomorrow people will beging coming out of their pods, and if they find their belongings missing, they might not take it well. Why don't we put all this back where you found it, and see what else there is to do."

"Aaaaaawwww," he pouts. "That's no fun."

Well, he is a kid.

Jamie has been through Weapons and Possessions before, and the sounds of rummaging wouldn't normally draw his attention. He's about to simply pass by on his way elsewhere when he does hear something, though, that sounds...off.

Unfortunately, he was walking a little bit faster than normal, and overshoots the door. It takes a moment for him to backtrack, and he manages to do so just in time to see the small green alien dissecting the shoe.

Jamie's eyebrows shoot up and disappear into his bangs as it starts to eat the rubber, and he clears his throat.

"Ah, hello. May I ask why ye're eating a shoe?"

"'Cause it's tasty," he says simply, looking over at Jamie when he hears his voice.

For a moment, he quietly looks down at the little scraps that remain of the shoe. He picks them up and holds them out towards Jamie.

"...Want some?"

He hasn't been around many humans in his short lifetime, so he isn't exactly sure what they eat normally. Still polite to ask, though.

There's a little hint of a smile on Jamie's face, but he shakes his head solemnly. "No, no. I'm not verra hungry right now. But thank ye for asking."

He gestures at the remnants of the shoe. "I won't be offended if ye want to finish it. Although ye may want to be careful with eating things in here. Some of them aren't exactly what they look like."

There may very well still be a pile of slightly singed items lurking somewhere in the depths of the room from the death pen incident, and for a moment Jamie wonders if the alien would think they were tasty, too.

He steps into the room completely, but slowly, so as not to startle anyone. Looking at the creature more fully, he's able to see the helmet on his head, and has to fake a cough to cover the fact he really, really wants to chuckle at the sight. After a moment, he gets himself back under control and smiles warmly.

"I don't think we've met yet, but ye look familiar. Were you in the room where they had us all go after we woke up?"

Oliver goes back to nibbling on the shoe.

"Yup," he says in between bites. Then, he adds, slightly somberly, "I'm the only Prawn here anyway."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jamie said, not without sympathy. It's not easy, waking up in a strange place and finding yourself utterly alone. He knows he was lucky to find someone he knew already on board. "But ye were with that Obi-Wan fellow, weren't ye? He seems like a good sort."

Still...not a Prawn. "D'ye have a name? Mine's Jamie."

Arha had been frowning into her locker--as if scowling was going to give her back her jubba cloak--when she heard the commotion. Eyebrows arched, she moved silently to inspect the cause and spotted the small creature and his purloined meal.

She had not encountered such a thing before and abruptly sat to watch him, letting her senses brush out in an effort to determine what he was. Alien, certainly, as his physiology indicated--and strangely cute.

"Does it actually taste good?" she asked after a moment of contemplation. Her smile was an easy one as she tilted her chin.

"Yup!" he says after gulping down a large chunk of shoe.

He offers some shoe scraps to Arha.

"Want some?"

"I have eaten already," Arha said, humor lighting her face, "but the offer is very generous of you. Thank you." Her hands rested lightly on her knees as she leaned to get a better look at him. "In my universe, we have none that look as you do. I am pleased to meet one so different from myself, it is a rare thing, indeed."

She gestured simply.

"If you wish, you may call me Arha."

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Delicious, but probably not nutritious

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