Voice with possible action. (kinda forward-dated a little maybe?) username: ilikehorses

[shoplifter]

[Well, look. Whenever she gets invited to Alphonse's future birthday, she's got a lot to think about.

She must consider this: there will be cake, that is a certainty. Cake sitting on a table, like in Transigen... in front of a deceptive cartoon painting on the wall; ways to trick outsiders into thinking the place is kind to its patients... She's learned at that facility that cake is a staple of birthdays, or rather, from the nurses. Birthdays involve singing, and they all learned the words for Delilah. All for Delilah. But they weren't allowed to have those parties, not after the first and last time; she never bothered asking about them again, because... she knew there would be nothing beyond the question. It wasn't difficult to tell what blowing out the candles and leading them away meant.

She had whispered happy birthday to Delilah on the way out, though.

Really, she's not sure just how normal those birthday choices even were. Outside of the walls of Transigen, what is a birthday like? Is there still cake? Still the concept of presents, or singing? Did the nurses want to try and do something nice but ultimately fantasy? Like Logan had said, ice-cream for bedwetters. She's curious to learn, though. So again, she uses the network for her own gain: this time, birthday information, instead of school.

(I'm sensing a pattern.)

Her voice is casual, but interested. She's not about to ruin the surprise, but she does need to know what she's getting herself into, here.]

What sort of presents are you supposed to give people, for their birthday?

... Toys, no?

[What the hell do adults like to get, for presents? A long pause, and she's not terribly sure of herself.]

Are there fireworks at birthday parties, too?

[Another thoughtful pause, yet again.]

... How do you tell what day you were born? Is it on a special paper?

[Okay, okay, last question there. She bites back more questions. Easy, Laura, easy.]


[ ADDITIONAL ACTION.]

[If you would like to find her out and about, she is wandering the shops for things that might be nice to give to the birthday boy, especially the department stores. Laura also puts on a cool hat and goes to leave without paying for it, of course, so she can be found getting approached by a very unhappy security guard there who is calling out something about a shoplifter. Look ma, it's my username!

... What? Just because she's getting better at being in the real world doesn't mean she's learned the virtue of paying for things.

Her dad stole cigars. She totally saw him do it. Cigars and a phone charger. 

Or maybe you'll find her violently shaking one of those coin-eating candy machines. Stupid thieving machine - she tried to be nice about this and use real money, and see where it got her? Never fear, she pops claws from her knuckles, long and adamantium-silver, and she slices the top of the candy machine clean off, so she can reach inside and take handfuls for her pocket. Man, living the dream over here. Don't bother asking where Linda is, we all know there's a repeating pattern of juking her.]

Comments

[shoplifter]

[It's definitely not easy being green, okay, people are judgemental!!

She looks at him skeptically. It's not clear why at first, and he may get an impression that she's about to call him out on his obvious fondness for Gamora, but--]

What are milkshakes?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ That look and that weighty silence definitely makes him think she's going to ask more about Gamora, which probably wouldn't be the most awful thing to happen to him, but he's a little confused on the topic, himself. (That is, he's not confused on it in the slightest, because even he knows that he's crazy about her; mostly, he doesn't know how to really express any of that in words. Or at least, not in any sequence of words understandable to any sapient species.)

He lets out a sigh of relief when she asks a much easier question to answer. ]

Do you know what ice cream is?

[ which is answering a question with a question, but at least it's relevant. ]

[shoplifter]

It's cold and sweet, and it comes on a cone.

[Someone had gotten it for her, before; this bodes well, she's thinking.

... Check marking next to Peter's name for ice cream.]

[nostalgiabomb]

Or a cup, or a bowl. But yeah, you've got it.

A milkshake is like ice cream in drink form. Comes in different flavors, usually with whipped cream and a near mandatory cherry on top.

So? Want one?

[shoplifter]

[She looks a bit impish at that; what, take advantage of an adult's hospitality? Her? Never.

She gives a little nod, adjusting her cap.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He catches that look, and he narrows his eyes down at her. Laura, it seems, is far more savvy than Peter gives her credit for, and of course he knows a con job when he sees one.

But, eh. He could go for a milkshake right now, anyway. (He can always go for a milkshake.)

The restaurant is some sort of retro throwback, though a throwback to what, Peter isn't sure. He's used to '50s diners, with aggressively turquoise decor and checkerboard tiling. This place has none of that, but it does have good food. He slips into an empty booth nearby, plucking up a menu and pointing out the list of milkshakes. ]

So you've got chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, or cookies and cream. Personally? I go for chocolate, but you're welcome to pick your own poison.

[shoplifter]

.... Then I will have chocolate.

[See, look, she trusts your judgement.

You seem like someone who puts away milkshakes.

She's staring down the smiley face pancakes though. Like. Really intensely.

They're just. Very cute.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ how dare you even if it's absolutely true. ]

Good choice.

[ He doesn't miss the way he's boring a hole into the image of the pancakes, and he gives her a considering glance for a second before a waiter arrives with a friendly smile. Peter puts in the orders for two chocolate shakes, and with a slightly exasperated look at Laura, he huffs out a sigh and adds, ]

The pancakes with the face on them, too. And fries for me.

[ And when the waiter wanders off, Peter jabs an accusatory finger across the table at her. ]

Alright, kid. That was the last bit of charity from me.

1/2

[shoplifter]

[But Quill, look at how bright her smile is at the sound of that. She doesn't let it linger too long in his presence, ducking slightly behind her menu as she scopes the rest of it, feet swinging slightly under the table with a rare but newfound childish eagerness. The waitress is more than fine with letting the child keep it, since she's so keen to study it religiously.]

[shoplifter]

[Her eyes appear from over the top of the menu once more.]

What is 'bah-con'?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter, in the meantime, turns sideways in the booth, his back against the wall and one leg bent up on the cushion. He’s content to let Laura study the menu like it’s some arcane text, directing his attention to his comm device. (He may or may not be playing whatever the Quarantine equivalent of Temple Run is.)

At Laura’s question, he glances up. ]

Bacon? [ He repeats it back for clarification, not to correct her. ] It’s, uh. A kind of meat. Usually pork, I think? Salty and crispy and kinda greasy. It’s good.

[shoplifter]

[Ooooh. That makes sense. Bacon. She'll put that away in memory.]

I've had meat before, at home, but I don't know what kind it was.

[She flips through the menu as she speaks, still hidden behind its wide space.]

The food was made to keep us strong.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ That gives him pause, and for a second, he presses his lips together into a thin line. It's really not any of his business, and god knows he's the last person anyone – much less a kid – should go to to work out the knotwork of their past.

But he has to admit he's a little curious, considering all the little breadcrumbs Laura's been offering up. Obviously she didn't have much of a conventional upbringing.

When he speaks again, he keeps his voice light and conversational. ]

Keep you strong for what, exactly? The grueling work of social studies?

[shoplifter]

[She shakes her head, suddenly studying him from over the menu with a sort of sudden sharpness -- like she's reading his soul, or something. It's very uncomfortable, Peter, don't worry. After a moment, she flicks the menu back up to look at. Well... Peter has been good to her so far, and if he does anything bad with the knowledge she potentially offers, she can just stab him and get out of dodge, right? She can think of a few ways to end him around here if he goes in to hurt her.

She doesn't think he will.

But she doesn't trust anyone over the age of tween.]

So we were strong enough to fight whatever we were told to fight.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Jesus. Peter’s sat through some unsettling stink eyes before, but the one Laura levels at him definitely ranks in the top 25, maybe top 20.

When she finally answers— Well. Peter doesn’t exactly know what he expected, but it was probably something along those lines. He frowns, brow furrowing and the corners of his mouth turning downward, and he swings in his seat to face her fully again. ]

Why were you fighting?

[ And his voice has definitely taken a more grim tone. He should probably express more outrage over children being made to fight, but considering his own upbringing, the upbringing of the people closest to him, and the shitty things he’s seen folks do, he’s sad to say he’s unsurprised.

People are fucked up. ]

And who was telling you what to do?

[shoplifter]

... Scientists. Doctors. Bad people.

[The milkshakes are brought and placed down, but it's quite a heavy scene as she sits with her menu finally laid out so that she can properly look at Peter in earnest. She's a cool mask, composed, and maybe that's a testament to how completely normal this is for her, too. People are fucked up.]

They pretended it was for cancer research. To help sick people.

... But it was really to make us.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His expression grows more grim, and he sets his drink to one side, watching Laura carefully. The way she’s talking, like she hasn’t had this tremendously crappy thing done to her, is worrying, but he gets it. It’s either learn to roll with it, or let it fuck you up, and Peter was always more a fan of the former than the latter. ]

Were they training you to be— I dunno. Warriors? Soldiers?

[shoplifter]

[She leans to pull the milkshake close, apparently chill enough to talk about child soldiers over sugary goods. She recollects the words used often around them. Subjects. Patented. Numbers. Among other names, some less savory or professional than others. Laura's heard her fair share of things like 'little monsters' or 'psycho toddlers' from some of the Reavers. It's strangely easy to speak about it all, because it was normal life. It was daily, as easy as someone discussing what they did at work that day.]

Las armas. Weapons.

We didn't want to fight, so they started putting others to sleep. That's when the nurses helped us run away.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter stares at her for a long while, letting the information sink in.

Then, quietly, with feeling, ]

What the fuck.

[ you shouldn’t swear around impressionable children, quill.

For a long while, Peter’s not sure what to say, but the timely arrival of the waitress with the plate of pancakes and basket of fries saves him from possibly putting his foot in his mouth. He murmurs a word of thanks as she sees herself off.

The story sounds familiar, really. It sounds a lot like what Gamora went through, and he nearly says as much before he decides better of it. It’s not really his story to tell, after all. At length, he plucks a fry from his basket, munching on it thoughtfully. Then, ]

You know Gamora, right? You guys should chat, one of these days. I think you and her have a lot in common.

[shoplifter]

[She gives a nod, mouth stuffed full of pancakes pretty damn quickly. Such an appetite on this one. You'd think she'd never had such flavorful and sugary foods, huh. She feels a bit bad ruining the face on them, though...]

She said she was learning how to be a person, too.

[Which is really all she said about her life.]

I was told I should call, if I need anything.