Sascha's heart crashed into her ribs when the ceiling caved in. She was immediately in a crouch, her feet underneath her and the weariness driven out on a surge of adrenaline. That immediately crashed the moment the bottom of a circular serving tray began to descend and Kreska cackled across the room.
Fate.
"He didn't," she gasped. "He didn't just put a hole in our hideout."
But of course he did, of course he had, whyever would he NOT do something completely mentally unstable to prove he could?
The tray came to a stop a little over head level and she kicked herself off the ground, brown and black locks bouncing against her back. She stepping carefully closer to Kreska to retrieve the damned thing from whatever robotic creation he'd stolen to get this done. Raising her palms to the bottom of the small platform, she brought it down to reveal a burger and fries and a bowl of some kind of soup. No drinks, but then, there wasn't a whole lot of room on the tray.
"All this fuss, and there's not even alcohol?" Sascha was going to need a whole lot of alcohol to bolster her nerves from the ceiling-is-falling incident. "Seriously, where's--"
A second tray descended as Kreska seemed to threaten Fate for the incursion--and Sascha had a lot of thoughts about the 'literal fucked' sentiment. She brought the second down, this one with two glass bottles of beer, an unopened and shimmery bottle of Venusian rum, and a mixed pack of chilled sodas.
>>Couldn't tell how hot it was in there.
>>Seemed bright.
>>And there was a lot of stripping.
>>Thought you might cool down easier with refreshments.
And of course with a hole it'd be easier for him to watch if there was more stripping. She rolled her eyes at the green text on her wrist as she sank to the ground and set the trays between her and where Kreska was standing. "Your place--first dibs. Except for the rum." That was already in her hand with the top off and making its way to her lips. Oh cards, how are you going to fix this mess, Fate?
>>They say toothpaste fixes walls.
>>I'll send a case over.
She almost sputtered over the rim of the bottle and quickly tapped back:
>>NO. NO MORE BOTS.
>>These aren't bounty goons--these are CORPORATE. Stop playing with fire, Fate.
>>I wasn't playing with fire.
>>I was playing with robots.
>>Did you at least look?
>>He's quite handsome.
She cursed under her breath.
>>And that's worth your having to move again?
>>Because it sounds like you've just gotten in a lot of trouble.
>>worth it.
Cards above. He never made a mistake like that. Sascha stared at her screen even after the green characters faded away.
>>...
>>Fate, you forgot a capital letter.
>>Exactly how bad is this?
Sascha didn't want to lose him to the underground again. Didn't want to go another interminable stretch of time having to wonder if her cheeky friend was dead or alive. Moving was hard for Fate; it'd mean he had to be outside, sitting on sensory overload. His agoraphobia would mean slow, painful going, and despite his precautions, he'd lack enough of his usual contact with the Net to filter--no matter how diligent he tried to be he'd suffer.
"Guess that's reassuring," she told Kreska. And if Fate wasn't going to tell her the truth, maybe her new companion would. "I hesitate to ask though...just how 'literal' 'literal fucked' is--and by what?"
---
>>Glad you like it, Greenie.
>>Eat up.
He typed the words even though he was certain her glee was focused more on the certainty of his very near actual fate than on anything he'd contrived.
"It'd have been easier if I wasn't trying to work just from the camera on your pad, sure," Fate said, his teeth gritted as he maneuvered the meal downward as far as the bot's more limited range would provide. The bag of optional clothing changes would come crashing down beside the pair--narrowly missing their food and drinks, now that he had eyes and could actually aim into the room.
Damn it, he normally loved his hair. But the idea that a Krotazi might have a preference for it as well...he shuddered, and a waver definitely snuck into the first few words of his next sentence before he could smother it with his usual bravado. "Gossip I can do. I can definitely acquire gossip. Knowing what kind of topics I should hone in on would be particularly helpful, mon haricot vert."
>>Fate.
>>Yes, Sassy-thing?
>>You're mentally damaged.
>>Good thing you love me.
He wondered if the woman he considered family would actually bring herself to say it this time--then chuckled when she had multiple ways to not say the thing she meant.
>>Don't put words in my mouth.
>>Put NOTHING in or near my mouth.
>>Nothing you can't put there yourself anyway, eh?
>>Exhibit A.
>>And that would normally be real damn expensive, so you know. Enjoy.
While I try not to panic and research a heaping helping of how to hide from a giant monster-snake.
Fate.
"He didn't," she gasped. "He didn't just put a hole in our hideout."
But of course he did, of course he had, whyever would he NOT do something completely mentally unstable to prove he could?
The tray came to a stop a little over head level and she kicked herself off the ground, brown and black locks bouncing against her back. She stepping carefully closer to Kreska to retrieve the damned thing from whatever robotic creation he'd stolen to get this done. Raising her palms to the bottom of the small platform, she brought it down to reveal a burger and fries and a bowl of some kind of soup. No drinks, but then, there wasn't a whole lot of room on the tray.
"All this fuss, and there's not even alcohol?" Sascha was going to need a whole lot of alcohol to bolster her nerves from the ceiling-is-falling incident. "Seriously, where's--"
A second tray descended as Kreska seemed to threaten Fate for the incursion--and Sascha had a lot of thoughts about the 'literal fucked' sentiment. She brought the second down, this one with two glass bottles of beer, an unopened and shimmery bottle of Venusian rum, and a mixed pack of chilled sodas.
>>Couldn't tell how hot it was in there.
>>Seemed bright.
>>And there was a lot of stripping.
>>Thought you might cool down easier with refreshments.
And of course with a hole it'd be easier for him to watch if there was more stripping. She rolled her eyes at the green text on her wrist as she sank to the ground and set the trays between her and where Kreska was standing. "Your place--first dibs. Except for the rum." That was already in her hand with the top off and making its way to her lips. Oh cards, how are you going to fix this mess, Fate?
>>They say toothpaste fixes walls.
>>I'll send a case over.
She almost sputtered over the rim of the bottle and quickly tapped back:
>>NO. NO MORE BOTS.
>>These aren't bounty goons--these are CORPORATE. Stop playing with fire, Fate.
>>I wasn't playing with fire.
>>I was playing with robots.
>>Did you at least look?
>>He's quite handsome.
She cursed under her breath.
>>And that's worth your having to move again?
>>Because it sounds like you've just gotten in a lot of trouble.
>>worth it.
Cards above. He never made a mistake like that. Sascha stared at her screen even after the green characters faded away.
>>...
>>Fate, you forgot a capital letter.
>>Exactly how bad is this?
Sascha didn't want to lose him to the underground again. Didn't want to go another interminable stretch of time having to wonder if her cheeky friend was dead or alive. Moving was hard for Fate; it'd mean he had to be outside, sitting on sensory overload. His agoraphobia would mean slow, painful going, and despite his precautions, he'd lack enough of his usual contact with the Net to filter--no matter how diligent he tried to be he'd suffer.
"Guess that's reassuring," she told Kreska. And if Fate wasn't going to tell her the truth, maybe her new companion would. "I hesitate to ask though...just how 'literal' 'literal fucked' is--and by what?"
---
>>Glad you like it, Greenie.
>>Eat up.
He typed the words even though he was certain her glee was focused more on the certainty of his very near actual fate than on anything he'd contrived.
"It'd have been easier if I wasn't trying to work just from the camera on your pad, sure," Fate said, his teeth gritted as he maneuvered the meal downward as far as the bot's more limited range would provide. The bag of optional clothing changes would come crashing down beside the pair--narrowly missing their food and drinks, now that he had eyes and could actually aim into the room.
Damn it, he normally loved his hair. But the idea that a Krotazi might have a preference for it as well...he shuddered, and a waver definitely snuck into the first few words of his next sentence before he could smother it with his usual bravado. "Gossip I can do. I can definitely acquire gossip. Knowing what kind of topics I should hone in on would be particularly helpful, mon haricot vert."
>>Fate.
>>Yes, Sassy-thing?
>>You're mentally damaged.
>>Good thing you love me.
He wondered if the woman he considered family would actually bring herself to say it this time--then chuckled when she had multiple ways to not say the thing she meant.
>>Don't put words in my mouth.
>>Put NOTHING in or near my mouth.
>>Nothing you can't put there yourself anyway, eh?
>>Exhibit A.
>>And that would normally be real damn expensive, so you know. Enjoy.
While I try not to panic and research a heaping helping of how to hide from a giant monster-snake.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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