Supply Run [Open to Brainy and others in location]

[fast-thrower.livejournal.com]

It had been nice of the ship to leave him with at least a few of his boomerangs, but Owen felt almost naked with his arsenal depleted so much. Not to mention the fact that this place allegedly got intermittent lethal bug problems. To that end, he needed tools, he needed supplies, and he needed a place to work. Asking around with both the ship and it's inhabitants had pointed him towards the Special Weapons division.

He poked his head in once he got there, looking around. "Yo? Anyone here?"

Comments

[cabbage-butt.livejournal.com]

"That's not what I'm referring to. I'm referring to the fact that several individuals on this ship have spoken to me as I'm somehow mentally defective because I'm not as obsessed with procreation as humans are," Brainy counters, "It's as if they've somehow, against all reason, been unable to discern that I'm not human. The Doctors in Medical clearly need to force the entire crew to endure eye examinations, to check their visual acuity."

Metron's chair, people, he's green. How have you missed this?

[fast-thrower.livejournal.com]

"Well... yeah, you're green. Coluan, you said, right? Just..." He shrugs. "I dunno. You talk like someone I could've been hanging out in college. Similar culture, so.. I made a guess." Owen really wasn't trying to upset anyone. He likes people, even alien-people.

Even potentially arrogant full of themselves computer-descended alien people.

With helper monkeys.

[cabbage-butt.livejournal.com]

Actually, they aren't computer-descended--they were nearly taken over by computers, however. Those darned computer tyrants.

"Yes, I am Coluan. Not the average, stereotypical human--what are they called? One of the words you have for you subcultures of intellectuals? We don't have a word for it in Interlac and I never bothered to learn English--it's a crude and inefficient language that will eventually die out. The closest word is 'foob.'"

He snaps his fingers.

"Nerd."

He'd nearly shoved the word right out of his Lexicon, with all the other useless garbage he shoved out rather than waste the brainspace on.

"I am not a human 'nerd.' My behavior is...largely--" Not entirely, but mostly. "--within the cultural norms for my own species."

At least on the sexual end. On the blowing-stuff-up-in-the-name-of-science- end, being-nice-to-AIs end, and socializing-with-other-people end, they're all arrogant fucksticks, but he's a bit of an odd duck in comparison. But on the sexual end, he's normal.

They're ALL repressed. >.>

[fast-thrower.livejournal.com]

"I never called you a nerd. and you seem to speak English just fine."

He shrugs and sits down again, clearing a space to work on some standard boomerangs and a couple razors.

"So... they still have beer in the future?" He was perfectly content to reduce things to small-talk now, devoting himself to mindless off-hand work, and much less tension.

[cabbage-butt.livejournal.com]

"The ship's translation unit is only maintaining the illusion that I'm speaking English. I'm actually speaking Interlac at the moment," Brainy says. "To my ears, you're also speaking Interlac, but I assumed if you're from 20th or 21st century Earth and associate with heroes in the North American continent that you would be speaking English."

To answer his question, "Yes, people still imbibe the foul concoction in a multitude of varieties and variations from planet to planet."

[fast-thrower.livejournal.com]

Owen chuckles to himself, sharpening an edge. "Sounds like the future's in good shape then. Have to go visit Mom sometime."