trans_9 | Talk About Timing...

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Talk About Timing...

While chaos was going on in the city, a level below the Living Areas, the rest of the ship was functioning normally. Stacy, apparently oblivious to goings on in the city, likely do to her malfunctioning sensors there, carried on with ship business.

||Pod Release Protocols Initating,|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to the upper levels, though no one was there to hear her. They were all downstairs, fighting for their lives against giant cockroaches.

In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

The usual condensation and mist sprayed out from cracks in the pods, they ripped open and the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime. One of them, due to his mechanical nature, slid out covered in a sort of oil mixture, in a smaller body than he'd once had.

Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.

There was no one already freed from the ship to greet them, only Stacy herself, and the empty silence of a ship caught in the middle of a crisis.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"For the last time: I am not a psychotic. I'm merely descended from one."

A pause.

"Or two. Several."

"That's sad, really. I mean, you're so cute. It's criminal that you're from a line of intergalactic psychopaths. There could have been such hope for you." She turned her head to wink at him, still following the snot-lights.

There it is again.

She called him cute. And this time not even with the word 'vaguely' in front of it.

"I--uh..."

All twelve tracks of his consciousness can't think of anything to say to this girl, who he can barely keep himself from oggling, telling him he's cute.

He opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut.

Then they reach the clothing room and he opens it again, as he pulls a face and says:

"What the sprock is this?"

He's not one for cursing either. Only special occasions. And tentacles hanging from the ceiling associated with "clothing" is one of them.

"I...ew. That's....they don't want us to wear that do we? Coz...that's a little too covered up for me."

||Please step into the center of the room.||

"And this will clothe us?"

||Yes.||

Brainy just looks at Kara, as if to say 'Well...?'

"Wuss." She stepped into the chamber and took a deep breath.

"Clothe me up, Stacy."

"You're the one who's invulnerable," he says, looking away. "And if it was hazardous, I could likely get you down before you got injured."

The tentacles wrap around her, lifting her up, swathing her in a leafy green material that slides over her whole body and forms a leafy greenish-black jumpsuit, before putting her back down again. (They also clean her hair and face. She's gook-free).

The jumpsuit is throbbing slightly.

Ew. Ew ew ew.

"This doesn't like come in a very short pleated minkskirt and a midriff-baring top, by any chance, does it?"

She looked at Brainiac. "Beware. The suit feels like it's alive. And a little glompy. It actually might give you a happy."

"If I didn't get one by watching you prance around naked, I doubt I'll get one now," he says, stepping into the circle. "And you sound like an Earthling with their odd preoccupation with mating..."

Oh, oh, ugh. Ugh. It's unpleasant, the clothing process, and so are the clothes. He is not a huggy person and his clothes are giving him a hug now.

"This is disgusting."

"Whatever, jerk." Kara crossed her arms. "The rude thing? That comes from your ancestor, right? Like bitchiness is your strongest trait right next to being completely evil? Except you're the like green sheep who thinks he's a good guy?"

"I don't think I'm a good guy--I am one." He adds. "And what can I say? A sparkling personality like your own brings out the very best in me."

"Piece of advice sweet mint cheeks? Leave the snarkasm to those who're actually good at it. Go calculate a septadic equation or some junk, okay?"

"Did you just make that word up? To sound smart? Right in front of me?"

"Umm, it's called playing with words. Look it up." She flicked his forehead lightly.

He makes an indignant squeaking sound when she flicks him. (Not to mention, a Kryptonian flick is kinda hard.

"It's called 'I am Brainiac Five and I know every word,' so if you make any up, I'll be able to tell."

He looks for a way out. The lights lead thataway.

"Right. Because you know every word ever used." Kara shakes her head. "Language changes, not-really-twelvewit. So does slang." She lets him lead, following right behind him. "This place is weird."

"Slang isn't language--it's the gibbering of idiots, and mercifully, it gets wiped out of existence with the progression of time."

He walks out into what looks like a tube. Immediately the floor starts moving under their feet, carrying them up through the tube.

"Hmm. Anti-grav lift. If they managed to construct a biological system capable of creating this, that's incredible."

"You mean like spork? A spork is an eating utensil, by the way. Half spoon, half fork. Kind of like how you're half ignoramus and half idiot, but whole ignoramus and whole idiot instead." She listens to his technobabble. "Do you do anything else besides talk science and insult pretty girls?"

He rolls his eyes. "I said 'sprock' earlier. A spork is--"

He pauses.

"--actually it's brilliant in his simplicity. And I'll inform you of the latter the moment I meet any pretty girls that aren't shrill and nescient."

Yes, he did just inadvertently imply that she's pretty. Annoying and dumb, but pretty.

"Oh, that. Is. It." Kara glared striding up to him. "I'm going to make you eat slime, spanky."

He crosses his arms and glares right back at her as the platform shoots them up the transport tube.

"I don't see why you're angry--you're the one that started this...hostility."

His memory is a little selective in regards to his own sarcasm.

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