What's new

Chapter Seven: Full House

Captain Hesperus

Harbinger of the End Times and Apostle of Ghan
Administrator
Supporter
Earlier
Facing home truths is rarely comfortable, but for Hercules having them whispered into his ear by a highly-perceptive young catgirl was excruciating. Beema’s words cut deep into him with the power of a high energy plasma saw. How could one so young be so perceptive? Hercules smiled despite his inner turmoil and gently ruffled the Broo girl’s hair.
“Beema’s eyes are so sharp they can see right inside people. You will be best shaman after Bong. Beema not worry about Hercules being friend. Hercules will always be not scared of Beema.”, he smiled as he looked back at her, “Even when Beema get the sexy.”
The conversation gave Hercules a moment of internal self-reflection. What was he afraid of? Why was he always so bashful around women? When would he properly make his feelings for Miss Hitomi known? They were questions he really needed the answer for, not just for Beema, but for himself.
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
Earlier...

Beema's short blonde hair is unruly and somewhat soft even as she pushes her head against Hercules's fingers. "Even when Beema get the sexy?! Hur-kyoo-leez Numba One!" Beema's happy exclamation is no whisper. She bounces gaily on his shoulders, her breathing going from rabbit-fast to like that of a squirrel's. Then she pauses for a moment of her own self-reflection. "Everyone say Beema is special kit. Scary Jerry say I see clear and far. Masta Bong say I no allow what I want to get in way of what I see. But I think the stars..." she points towards the ceiling, "...see the same way! Stars see everything. So... Beema want see all things like stars see. Since stars are true, so is Beema!"

However, even young spiritual girls have their limits. Beema turns to Ylva and Toph as if to ask them something, but the words do not escape her lips. She begins to pant and her eyes flutter. The orange glow in them fades. This youngest of Star Watchers and Broo time-travelers has reached the limits of her endurance. And so Beema does the one thing that displays the ultimate animal trust in Hercules - she curls up in such a way as to remain balanced with nary a claw or a foot in his way and falls to sleep right there on his shoulders. She looks like a shawl or wild little beach towel draped about the great Greek. In scant moments, her wild and pretty face is trusting, peaceful, breathing deeply, and out like a light.
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
( Captain Hesperus Captain Hesperus Tag!)

Present time...

The Spaghetti Incident.

The Wild Cards are at work in the Mess Hall and it smells good! The empty packages fill the recycle bins, the sounds of chopping, dicing, mixing, and boiling fill the hall along with bits of animated conversation. Mario is the busiest of all, like a one-man baseball team trying to man all four bases while the Beema-draped Chef Hercules is much like Mario's shadow, watching here, adjusting there, stirring and moving along like a man who knows this culinary battlefield to a professional level. Ylva, Toph, Elinor, and Cera are busy with knives or ladles in hand. Even Trouble is active pushing containers along counters with his little head as best he can. The Sams and Samanthas help by tidying up using the "clean as you go" philosophy. The only one staying out of the game is staying out quite purposely - Mack stands as far back as she can, leaning up against a wall with her hands behind supporting her and her ankles crossed. No way was she going to get involved and invite the dreaded Mackenzie curse upon this most special of forays.

Things are going quite well until Mario unconsciously overextends himself. The four baseball bases are getting farther and farther away as he tries to do too much at one time. Chef Hercules notices this and tries to compensate by stepping up the tempo. Soon, Mario is sweating and not realizing it while Hercules begins to have reason to - for the sheer amount of food cooking present is just too much for any one person, including Mario with his current level of Cooking knowledge and experience, to handle.

It is Toph who first smells the burning sauce.

With a natural 19 from the White d20 on her requested Perception roll!

However, she is two tables away and cannot, without climbing over the food-laden counters, reach it in time. The idea here is to remove the sauce as quickly as possible. Turn the heat down next. Hercules sees it and also moves to intercept. They both think they reach it in time before it becomes a blackened ruin with Toph turning down the heat and Hercules scooping up the huge and heavy pot one-handed. The pot in the air is cooling, most of its contents are recoverable, when unbeknownst to everyone, the burned sauce creates invisible fumes that reach one of the many of Broadsword's ever-vigilant smoke detectors!

"WAAAAAOOOO! WAAAOOOO!"

The Broadsword's alarm, especially to the uninitiated, is the spine-shaking sound of an air raid siren even the dead can hear. When the blaring alarm goes off, all eyes spin to see Hercules and Toph struck in mid-pose. It sounds for two seconds then ceases. The following alert in Sam's leisurely surfer tones are heard by everyone over the Broadsword's intercom: "All hands, dudes. Like, all hands. Single-point fire alarm followed by odor investigation in Mess Hall. Single-point fire alarm followed by odor investigation in Mess Hall. All respective talk groups, like, c'mon over to Tac-2 if you wanna join the party, dudes." Then the intercoms go silent.

Beema wakes up, sees what is happening, and cringes. "Oof! Mar-ee-yoh beaucoup mess up! Beema bet Pie-pa gonna throw him in Mindbender!"

While the Wild Cards, now including Mack, are looking all over the place for anything else that won't set off another alarm, it is Chef Hercules who realizes that the other pots are in danger of going up and gives an alarm of his own. Mario, Elinor, Toph, and Ylva readily head in and save the day, reducing heat here, stirring there, and in moments, things seem to begin to return to normal, but it is not to be.

The doors to the Mess Hall slide open to reveal a yellow-clad team of two Sams and two Samanthas carrying heavy duty fire extinguishers, medical gear, and what looks like a pair of backpack-fueled, big-nozzled cannons. Of your group, only Elinor instantly and correctly identifies this team's purpose - they are more than fire fighters - these Sams act as Starship Damage Control! At the moment, those nozzles are aimed at the Wild Cards, or rather, at the pots and ovens nearest them! If those nozzles open, the entire dinner is ruined.

Cera chooses this moment to try the human solution of putting a happy face on the situation. "Sam! All is in order. We are okay!" The nozzles don't open, but they remain aimed.

Then the intercom goes off again. It's Piper. She sounds as drunk as any decent post-mission sailor and as pissed off as a pregnant wolverine with cravings and rabies. "Goshrdraam, you Wild Caaards! You burrrn down my Mesh Shall an' I'll drrrop you naked on toppa a Zeki warship wif only burned pots an' wet spaghetti noodles! Sherve you right if you get captured an' become shum damn Zeki offishur's P.O.W. problem! Unnershtand?!" The tirade continues. "Zuuuko! Neskht time, get'cher Italian-sausage ass inta the Mindbender and learn how ta cook before ya serve in my Mesh Shall! Dats annn ordurr if I remembur ta enforshe it! Yeah! Ordur up! Hay Faaaydra? Which button turnsh dis blasted ting of-."

Mack blanches at the intercom and is trying very hard not to laugh at the Italian sausage-ass comment. At the same time, the black-haired Californian is looking very worried. "Aww, jeez! I'm sorry! Did the Mackenzie luck strike again? Should I stay outside next time?"

Under Hercules's guidance, the Wild Cards are able to get everything under control, but things need to get moving again. You notice the nozzles the Sams are aiming lower. They turn to leave, but pause in mid-stride. A moment later, they stay inside the Mess Hall, each at attention stance facing you. Just in case.

The supper is indeed salvageable, but only if the Wild Cards change up how they're doing things. It seems Mario just needs another person or two to follow him around or you may attempt a solution of your own.

How do the Wild Cards attempt to continue making the spaghetti?
 

Kaerri

Dannigan's Lady
Administrator
Supporter


Elinor's character sheet
Action Points: 8/8
Bonus action point: 1

Elinor tries not to laugh, but a snort escapes after Piper finds the intercom cutoff (with Faydra's help, presumably). "With luck, she won't remember any of it," she says comfortingly. "Sams, nice response time, and thanks for not makin' us start over."

She looks at their cooking leader. "Mario, maybe you shouldn't try to be as busy as a one-armed man in a paper-hangin' contest, huh? This is your thing and all, and Hercules sure seems to know his way around things, but I'm thinkin' you could use one more on the main bits. I'm volunteerin', if you like. Maybe Mack can take over from me?"
 

Kaerri

Dannigan's Lady
Administrator
Supporter
Elinor grins at Mack. "Mind the sharp pointy things is all, fearless leader. Maybe stick to ladles and such?"
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
Mack fidgets. "It's not that I don't know how - I come from a strong family that knows their way around a kitchen - I just don't want to cause a repeat. I mean, what if I somehow caused this one?"
 

Sherwood

Luna's Concubine
Supporter
Mario wants to hang his head in shame as the sauce goes up with smoke. His dear grandma must be rolling around in her grave with disgust for the failure of her grandson with her beloved and family favorite spaghetti. He lets out a sigh as everyone rushes over and the Sams leap into action to keep the ship's kitchen from burning up. How horrible! He'll be hearing about this for a long time, and there is no getting out of it.

He lets out a deep sigh, and says, "I'm sorry, guys. I thought I could handle things, but it does appear that this was just a bit too much for me to handle. I'll gladly accept any and all help in order to save dinner from being ruined for everyone."
 

Psychie

Princess Psychie
Toph goes over and ruffles Mario's hair with a wide smile. "I think we named you your callsign a little too soon! I am thinking that you should be called 'Scorch' for this!" She lets out a bit of laughter at his plight, thankful that there is still going to be enough food for dinner. Easing off the teasing a (small) bit, she says, "C'mon, Mario! Don't give up on us now! We are Wild Cards, and we never quit, especially on one another! Lets do this right this time!"
 

Silanon

Three Thousand Club
"I mean, it was basically right the first time. Just need another pair of eyes to watch the heat, that's all. Could do that, heated my fair share of things. Either way, we'll be fine." And if not, there's now four more Sam's at hand, ready to unleash the future's fire-extinguishing wrath... at least, the kitchen has no automated sprinkler systems, that would've been a mess... and probably quite funny, after a while, as long as one isn't the one in charge. Ylva holds back with the teasing and grinning - in moments like these, many wrong words can be said. "About that curse, though - anything I should know about?
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
( Silanon Silanon Captain Hesperus Captain Hesperus Tag!)

Lt. Shirley Mackenzie manages to nervously fidget in a way that makes the long-legged Californian look cute, all without her realizing it.

"Well, Ylva. It's like this. I am magic in a Valkyrie and a siren on the stage. Sometimes I can even surf and stay on the board and drive and stay in the car!" She allows herself a chuckle. "But in just about every other physical activity, and I am bound to bash, cut, or bruise myself - sometimes all three - all because of something I've called the Curse of the Mackenzie.

One of the timers on the spaghetti noodles sounds signaling its readiness. Mack glances at it cautiously and then seems to subconsciously inch away from it even as one of the Wild Cards picks up the pot harmlessly.

"That's why I'm leaning back over here and away from the action. I don't want the fact that I was born under an unlucky star to ruin all this."
 

Captain Hesperus

Harbinger of the End Times and Apostle of Ghan
Administrator
Supporter
Hercules turned as the timer pinged and scooped the pan full of boiling water and spaghetti off the heat, transferred it to a sink where a strainer waited. As he drained off the water, he turned his head and looked at Mack.
“Did you ever return my jacket from the first day we met, Lieutenant?”
 

Sherwood

Luna's Concubine
Supporter
The first day we met was when Mack helped to save that bus full of kids from all those Zentraedi, when I was driving that junker of a hover tank. Quite the experience. Since then, I've learned that we are all Traversers, and now are are all declared KIA and shifted over to work for the UEEF. Mario thinks back to that day with wonder, since in reality it was not all that long ago, but in some ways, it feels like it was ages ago.

He makes the observation, "Wow, the 'first day we met'. That brings me back. Seems like it has been forever, but it was only a short time ago. Remember that, ma'am? How we were able to keep those kids in that bus from getting toasted, in a big part thanks to you calling in that artillery strike that wiped the floor with those Zentraedi. That was quite a day."
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
( Captain Hesperus Captain Hesperus Tag!)

(Part 1 of 2)

“Did you ever return my jacket from the first day we met, Lieutenant?”
If Shirley looked nervous before, she was downright sheepish now! With wringing hands, a grimace, a bow, and a smile that screamed the word, "apologies!" Shirley rapidly told Hercules, "No, and that's because when Mario and I woke up together in the Captain's Quarters, I tried to use the coffee-maker, and I managed to dump half a pot of hot coffee all over your jacket and not even Sam knows quite how to get the stain out please don't kill me..."

Beema carefully pawed forward on all fours, her ears turning to each speaker as they spoke. "You say, coffee stain?"

Shirley frets and nods. "Beema, you... know what coffee is?"

Beema picks up a stray spaghetti noodle, holds it between two claws, and examines it curiously. "Yes. We keeell de monsta. Coffee keep Pie-pa from keeelling Broo when we goof."

Shirley tries to stifle a nervous laugh and fails.

"Iz true! When Broo try to fly Beta to save de day, we instead wreck whole Hangar Bay Charlie. Pie-pa love Broadsword. She sooo maaad, she tell us," Beema loses her Broo-inflections for a moment and screeches in a way that you can instantly and positively she is reenacting a moment with Bethany Piper, "Godammit, you guys! If I didn't have my coffee right here, I swear I'd consider blowing you guys outta the airlock!" Beema then remarks as herself, "Den Commanda Kirin say," and right there, Beema stands up tall and straight as if she is looking down on someone else and in a mannerism that Toph could bet serious credits on, Beema impersonates Toph's mother. "Flight Commander! Drink your coffee and close your mouth - in that order! We shall find another way to get our Marines out."

Shirley looks a bit stunned at these impersonations. While no one would mistake Beema's voice for anyone but Beema's, it is still like the spirit of Bethany Piper or Zyorna Kirin had suddenly possessed the Broo and spoke as if they were inhabiting Beema's little body.

"But back to coffee stain?" Beema goes back to pawing at the dangling noodle. "Scrath spit."

Shirley peers. "Come again?"

Cera is stirring a huge pot of noodles when she says cooly, "The feral is correct, Leader Mack. We use the saliva of Scraths to polish our Queadlunn-Rau mecha after each combat so that they shine like new. I know of no stain Scrath saliva cannot remove." Cera glances at Beema. "And just how do you expect to find some?"

"Is one on board. Female. Old. Very crafty. Nearby."

Cera silently flinches, stops stirring, and glares in surprise at the young Broo who is entirely too wrapped up in watching the noodle wave back and forth to notice.

Then Beema points to the floor outside the Mess Hall, "Can smell Scrath on the metal in halls. You also mention Scrath in Drake's." Beema hands the noodle to a Wild Card as if asking if they would like to play with the dangly string-like noodle too. "If Wild Card is nice and offer trade of service, maybe Cera persuade old lady Scrath to fix Hur-kyoo-leez jacket?"

"Uh!" Shirley looks to Cera and gulps, clearly unsure of how to proceed. But Cera is still glaring in red-eyed irritation at oblivious Beema.

"Fine," Cera icily declares. "I request that someone stir thi--." Cera seems to mean a fellow Wild Card, but Beema's ears perk up and before the Ura-Meltrandi can get another word out, there is blonde, breathless Beema with both hands opens and looking excitedly at the steel pasta server in Cera's hands. With a firm frown, Cera hands it to her, grabs an unused bowl, and exits the Mess Hall with the walk someone has when they are also trying to walk off their irritation.

As she passes Elinor on her way out, Cera says, "Dentella, now do you see why we cannot stand the Broo?"
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
(Part 2 of 2)

He makes the observation, "Wow, the 'first day we met'. That brings me back. Seems like it has been forever, but it was only a short time ago. Remember that, ma'am? How we were able to keep those kids in that bus from getting toasted, in a big part thanks to you calling in that artillery strike that wiped the floor with those Zentraedi. That was quite a day."
Shirley gives a little smile. "Will you guys cut it out with the 'lieutenant' and 'ma'ams?' We're not in the field or anything. You're free to call me Shirley already."

"Okay, Shirley-already!" Beema giggles. This causes your squad leader to realize what she said and roll her eyes in amusement.

Then Shirley leans back again and lets her mind drift like a seagull on the wind above some nice sunny beachline somewhere. "Yeah... Hard to believe that was just earlier this week. God, my heart would have broken if those damned Malcontents had blown away any of the civilians, especially the ones in the school buses!" She pauses in reflection. "And I just melted at the video presentation they gave us at the Assembly." Shirley turns to Ylva. "The teachers and kids we saved put together a video declaring their gratitude for everyone involved in saving them at the Interstate 10 Incident."*

Back in 11 September of 2016! *See Mario's Prologue for details.

"I can't help but be glad my Ghost Riders were on-station for that shift. I don't know what I would have done without Hairball's help." She grins. Under a cloud of curly, jet-black hair and sleek sun-tanned skin, Shirley's Californian eyes seem especially sea-blue as she becomes lost in thought.

But feel free to break Shirley out of it. =)
 
Last edited:

Sherwood

Luna's Concubine
Supporter
Mario lets out a snort. "Look, Shirley, I may be a newly frocked Petty Officer, but for the main extent of my military career, officers were never Bob, or Charlie, or even Shirley. They were always 'Sir' or 'Ma'am' to their face. It will take me a very long time to get past those years of conditioning, so please forgive my occasional backslide."

He watches her for a moment, then says, "I am sure that you will get a chance to rub elbows with your Ghost Riders again, once we kick the mon-stahs in their mechanical tails (no offense there, Trouble!) and send them packing off of our world, along with any other hostiles that try to come to our neighborhood."
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
Mario lets out a snort. "Look, Shirley, I may be a newly frocked Petty Officer, but for the main extent of my military career, officers were never Bob, or Charlie, or even Shirley. They were always 'Sir' or 'Ma'am' to their face. It will take me a very long time to get past those years of conditioning, so please forgive my occasional backslide."
"That's more like it, Mario!" Shirley smiles. "I learned from my dad that the best squads know each other backwards and forwards until the whole is like one big well-oiled machine. That's how I want us Wild Cards to be!"
 

Captain Hesperus

Harbinger of the End Times and Apostle of Ghan
Administrator
Supporter
Hearing that his fatigue jacket was another Mack-disaster just made Hercules roll his eyes, even as he sprinkled a tad bit more rehydrated basil into one of the gently-bubbling pots of sauce. The sauce was almost ready and the pasta was done.
"I mean, it's no big deal, ma'am.", he spoke up as conversation turned to the removal of stains from jackets, "After all, it's a uniform jacket from an organisation I'm no longer a part of. Sure it'll be nice to have it back, clothes in my size are a little hard to come by, but it's hardly a priority."
He started to turn off the heat from the stoves and declared, "I think we're about ready, best start plating up the noodle and doling out the sauce, before another Wild Card 'Charlie Foxtrot' happens!"
He laughed as he started dropping ladles into the sauce pots and manhandling the pasta to the sinks to strain.
 

Psychie

Princess Psychie
Toph nods, following the lead of the ones that know how to cook. If it were dealing with sewing up a perforated intestine from a gunshot wound, she'd be all over that. But this kitchen stuff? Not so much. Food was just whatever she could wolf down during medical and flight schools, not a gourmet dish. As she works, the pink-haired doctor comments, "Y'know Mario, you and Hercules may be suffering from your years of enlisted time, but now you are a Wild Card in the UEEF, and we are all friends here. Lets go ahead and drop the formalities between us and work as more than just a team, but more of a bizarre family unit!"
 

Kaerri

Dannigan's Lady
Administrator
Supporter
As she passes Elinor on her way out, Cera says, "Dentella, now do you see why we cannot stand the Broo?"
Under the assumption that the question was rhetorical, Elinor waits until Cera is safely on the other side of a closed door before answering, "Well, we did mention it. You must have a good nose, Beema. And good knowledge to recognize what you're smelling."

She nods as Toph reiterates the desire for lack of formality among them. "What she said, just so you know all us non-enlisted are on the same page. Family it is!"
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
You must have a good nose, Beema. And good knowledge to recognize what you're smelling."
In reply, Beema closes her eyes and beams a proud smile at Elinor. Excitedly she says, "One day in the grass, Broo and human talk. Broo ask human, 'How you make all diiisss?'" Her arms open as if to display the entire Broadsword all at once. "And human say, 'We have been making things for a long time. But how is it that you can hear this tiny insect here at my feet?'

Beema smiles peacefully, "And Broo say, 'how is it you do not?'"
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
Supporter
( Captain Hesperus Captain Hesperus Tag!)
"I mean, it's no big deal, ma'am.", he spoke up as conversation turned to the removal of stains from jackets, "After all, it's a uniform jacket from an organisation I'm no longer a part of. Sure it'll be nice to have it back, clothes in my size are a little hard to come by, but it's hardly a priority."
"Yeah," Shirley squirms a little, "but it's your jacket. You stepped up for a stranger like me after I was having this abysmal day on what was supposed to be one of the most important days of my life. I mean, my whole wardrobe burned except for what I had in Baby's trunk! You saw the chewing my dad gave me!" Shirley gives a grateful smile up at Hercules. "Sure was sweet of ya to look out for a poor little Cali girl, though."

* * *​

The wide doors to the Mess Hall sheathe into their armored bulkheads as Cera returns, intent on Shirley. Behind her, a huge shadow falls in the shape of a huge praying mantis the size of a small car and with pincers that look like they were made for catching and decapitating. Everyone recognizes Iris as her carapace shifts colors in a chameleon-like manner from the the strong gray-steel of the Broadsword's hallways to a healthy-looking reds and oranges. Her pupil-less eyes are an easy green color and she moves with a casual ease into the Mess Hall. Once inside the large room, she stands up, seems to stretch, and in doing so she towers over everyone, Hercules included. It is eerie how so very quiet something that large can be.

While this is taking place, Shirley looks up to Iris and waves. "Hey there, big momma! Thanks for lending a han--, er, claw-thing, against those Anti-Unification League robot fighters. I was thinking for sure we'd have casualties until you took action!"

Silently, Iris closes her eyes and raises her mandible-pointed chin high as if swelling at Shirley's praise.

"Uhhh!" On the table now closest to Mario, Beema the Broo sits Indian-style. Her mouth has dropped open as she shamelessly gawks at the sight of a Scrath in near-melee range. The Broo's orange eyes seem to quickly comprehend that the Scrath, if hostile, could singlehandedly kill everyone in the Mess Hall before you could get to your armor or weapons. The only exceptions would be the Sam units as they are made of hypercarbon (Mega-damage material), but even the Sams and Samanthas don't look twice at the huge alien insect.

Cera instructs Beema. "If you open your mind to her, she will converse with you, for she lacks vocal chords to speak with. Iris is as kind to her allies as she is fierce and merciless to our enemies. My advice? Be her ally, savage one. It is healthier for all concerned."

Hearing this, wide-eyed Beema rapidly inches closer to Mario. She whispers in his ear with a trembling voice. "What I should do, Wild Card Mar-ee-yo?!"

As this is taking place, a conversation of another kind begins inside Ylva's mind. The Swede hears a faint buzzing sound followed by a very distracting yet colorful array of symbols, mostly alien, that quickly arrange into letters and numbers that Ylva can easily understand. For the second time in as many meetings, Ylva hears in her mind's ear a maternal voice, gentle and soothing combined with a friendly touch of excitement.

"932TqqqBrD000000..."

"Khe ke zzzz42 tek..."

"Success! Contact reestablished!"

"Salutations, human ally of the Ura-Meltrandi! Your group, the Wild Cards, is the first in Scrath memory to have earned this distinction and This One is delighted that our forces are not in combat with one another! Auxiliary Specialist Cera has recently informed This One that your preferred combat-carapace is called a "Logan" and that you have explored the ocean depths of your battered, yet mighty homeworld. Query: Does the war for your homeworld extend into these oceans? This One's ability to assist you is quite limited in an atmosphere comprised of water filled with entities unknown to Ura-Meltrandi and Scrath alike. Therefore..."
Iris crosses her pincers pensively, "...This One is worried for Wild Card Ylva's continued survival! Query: Do you believe this worry is warranted?"

While this is taking place, Cera produces a small cylindrical container filled with white-green fluid. This she hands to Shirley. "Leader Mack. Please follow these instructions: For food stains, apply gently with a clean cloth. Dab a little at a time. The saliva is skin-friendly so you do not need gloves."

Shirley pats Cera's arm in a gesture of friendliness. "Sure! Thanks a lot, Cera! You may have just saved my pride."

The Ura-Meltrandi nods and grins, for every Ura-Meltrandi understands what it is to have pride.

The room is filled with the delicious smells of meat sauce, herbs and spices, and something more. A timer goes off, beeping mildly and causing little Beema to flinch. One of the Damage Control Units, a Samantha, complete with some kind of nozzled cannon, poses and declares in her now-Southern accent, "Whooee! Y'all know what that is! Them there trays of garlic bread are a hootin' and a tootin'! Ah'll just mosey on outta the way here an' let y'all do the delicate work. If'n ya need a hand, just holler now!"

While the Sams move out of everyone's way, the timer ceases. All of you work together to the bread out. Plates and utensils along with various drinks are handed out and set across the many tables. The time for Mario's Spaghetti Dinner is almost here!
 
Last edited:

Sherwood

Luna's Concubine
Supporter
Hearing this, wide-eyed Beema rapidly inches closer to Mario. She whispers in his ear with a trembling voice. "What I should do, Wild Card Mar-ee-yo?!"
Mario places a comforting hand on Beema's shoulder and gives a slight squeeze. "Iris is a ally, friend, and a member of the team. She has helped us all out on several occasions, and has earned her right to be called a Wild Card. Let her be a friend to you, too, and you won't regret it."

Looking around at the bustling mess hall with all of the people and Sams in it (he was already starting to think of Beema's race as 'people', not a bunch of aliens), Mario was starting to get a feeling of contentment inside. This is a place and a team that I can really see myself being a part of for the long term. I like being here. He then grabs a large pot of boiling water and heads for a sink to drain the noodles. "Watch out! Hot stuff coming through! And the water will scald you, too, if you aren't careful!"

He offers up a grin as he works, feeling good about his newly found life onboard the Broadsword.
 

Silanon

Three Thousand Club
For a moment, the air was filled with stories, just there. Some of them told in words, others only in the thoughts of those who'd been there for the ride. Lots to take in for Ylva, little to share. There's some point where even explanations can't make you one who went through thick and thin with the others. Yet. So for a while, she does her best to make herself useful and simply drink in the atmosphere around her; until the present's stories demand their own attention. Not just the ambitious cooking attempt, but what comes with it; Beema of the Broo, and... alien spit, somehow. The missing piece to a wondrous day. Only bested by the alien's presence shortly after.

There's little that'd compare to that appearance itself; seeing Iris for the second time might as well have been the first, since knowing her really doesn't make her stand out any less. Does one ever get used to the sight? Or to the spoken words in one's mind? Do the others still share the same amazement that both Beema and she herself display? They had some time to get used to Iris' presence; and they might actually be polite enough to not blatantly stare... like the Swede does, with little regard for whatever she busied herself with before. It's not like dinner is almost ready right? Well, there's a conversation going on in her head, so that'll be fine...

"Hi there." If there's a right and polite way to start a mental conversation, that's probably not it. "Iris. Sorry, I'm not... quite used to this kind of speech." She speaks the first part, tries to 'think' the second, and probably does a great job of making a fool of herself. "We... weren't doing any fighting, back then. Only looked at things that sunk to the ground from the war up in the sky. Wreckages, mostly. As far as we knew, then, there's nothing down there that'd be a reason to worry too much. I mean, part of why the Broadsword took a bath is because it's safe for us, at least for now, right?" Hopefully - it'd be nice to have one place that's still untouched from the war, With all the destruction, there's more than enough forced change on the surface already.

"So it should be fine, at least for now. No need to worry. But thanks for asking. And thank you for helping." Be it with the war, or with coffee stains. "So, what do Scrath actually eat, Iris? And... just out of curiosity... would you mind if I tag along when you try to use that, Lieute-... Shirley?" She sheepishly points out the fluid. "I... might have an interest in substances that do wondrous things. If that's alright, that is." Her last comment is directed at both Cera and Iris; who knows whether there are social conventions where Scrath spit is involved... but organic laundry detergents? Come on, one doesn't need to have spent years in labs to get excited by that, right? Right?
 

Psychie

Princess Psychie
Toph is doing her best to be helpful and not get in the way, but she is much more confident in the operating room than the kitchen to feel totally at ease. She looks over at Ylva and says, "Some day, I would like to make a detailed physiological write-up on Iris. Get to know the Scrath species a bit better, especially if I ever need to do some first aid to her! I doubt very much that there would be a large crowd of people seeking this information, but it would make me happy to give it a shot."

The pink-haired doctor then casually makes her way over to stand next to Hercules. In a soft voice meant for just the two of them, Toph says, "Um, Herc? When you have a moment, I'd like a moment to talk with you. Privately. Nothing bad, I assure you! I just feel that I need to say a few things."

Captain Hesperus Captain Hesperus
 

Users Who Are Viewing This Thread (Users: 0, Guests: 4)

Top