trans_9 | I'm echoing all your philosophies;

Ever since exposing GLaDOS's true function, Claire was starting to remember people she'd forgotten. It was kind of weird, some things had clicked back into place immediately, but others had taken time to recall. And since she became aware of it, there was a constant feeling on the edge of her mind that she was still missing something and it was important, but she just couldn't get a grasp on it.

That, of course didn't stop her from trying. She was determined to remember what it was, even if it didn't seem like Stacy quite wanted her to. All this excess thinking left her wandering around with a slightly spaced out look, however, and she'd been more than a little distracted. So when she was interacting with the kids in her class she had to push it back, which made it harder for her to try to get a hold on it, again.

So, anyone happening to wander through hydroponics may come across Claire sitting in one of her favorite spots, back up against a tree. She's half watching Boon run around and throwing a ball for him, but for the most part she's off in her own world.

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Well naturally she had wanted quiet time, but that was a rare thing some days, on this ship. She was pulled from her contemplation by the yelling, and after a moment she frowned, pushing herself to her feet to investigate.

The... book, was, admittedly, not something she expected. And she just stood there, staring with her mouth hanging half-open.

Of course, Boon heard the racket too, and he was a lot less shy about investigating.

Zetta continued his angry rant at the plant more than really seemed reasonable, not in small part because he's yelling at a plant in the first place. The end of that tirade came abruptly, though, as the minion hauling the book around turned as Boon approached. The book abruptly found himself looking at one of those... things, that they didn't have in Netherworlds.

"What the hell are you?" Zetta asked. Not really mad; mild profanity just came naturally to him. On this ship, who can blame him?

in response to the book talking at him, Boon let out a short growl, before starting up his barking again.

Claire would honestly interfere if she could think of anything to say.

"What kind of an answer was that?" Zetta demanded. So far everything he'd met that wasn't overtly part of the ship was sentient. He'd assumed this thing was too. "I don't speak that language! Isn't there supposed to be some sort of translator here?"

Scowling fiercely, the Overlord listened to the barking, trying to piece it out intelligently. Something... fell down... well....

"No, that can't be right," he muttered.

The shock of a talking book was starting to wear off, now, and Claire let out a short laugh, finally moving forward to get a rein on Boon.

"He's a dog. Dogs don't talk," she replied, choosing to not express that books didn't talk, either, aloud. Though she was certainly thinking it.

Zetta looked up as his minion turned him slightly to face Claire, one eye squinted. He hadn't noticed her at all. "Oh. That's a dog? I figured they were... well. Not that. Are they intelligent?"

"Very," she nodded her head, crouching down to pet Boon. At her touch he finally stopped paying attention to the book, and instead craned his head up to look at his mistress curiously, almost like he expected her to explain to him now, what the book was.

Zetta had meant sapient, but why bother correcting him? It's much funnier this way.

"Well, dog!" the book said, drawing itself up proudly. "You're standing in the presence of the most badass freakin' Overlord in the cosmos! That's who you've been non... talkingly... noising-making... at. Now--"

The book paused a moment.

"...So how do I get him to tell me his story if he can't speak? Is there a telepathy thing involved here?"

To be fair to the Overlord, he'd been at various times in his existence annoyed by walking corn, evil carrots, cat kids, and pumpkin men. His misunderstanding here is not (just) idiocy.

"Uh," Claire frowned a little, before giving a slightly strained smile.

"They don't really communicate the same way... people do. You can guess what they might be thinking because of a look they give you, or they can let you know something is wrong by whining or barking, but anything more than that..." She shrugged her shoulders, looking down at the puppy in her arms again. "There are probably people who can communicate with them better, but they'd be a special case, I'm sure."

"That's not helpful," Zetta said as he stared at the dog some more.

Then he had a flash of the blinding obvious. "I'm going to guess that of the two of you, you're the leader of the outfit. So, maybe you can tell me what the dog's story is."

Give him a moment. Just a little more. Aaaand... there, second flash. "Or, uh, maybe your own."

"Our stories?" Claire laughed a little, shaking her head. "I guess that would depend on what you want to know." She wasn't exactly in the habit of telling her entire life story to anyone who asked.

"I'm curious about everyone who ended up on this ship," Zetta said. "I can't think it's all just luck and coincidence. We've got a goal and an enemy -- and right now MY goal is to figure out how we're gonna deal with all that. And I'm sure of one thing: It's gonna be a team effort."

Zetta is sure of this only, absolutely only, because he has no functioning limbs at the moment.

I'm echoing all your philosophies;

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