somethingwithturquoise | Some Space Jail; Planet [Unknown]; Dimension [Unknown]; Saturday [08/08].

SO THAT WENT WELL.

After what had been an botched attempt to test out some coordinates to see if Summer was anywhere near figuring out how to get Seivarden home and winding up on her (very unfortunately named) good friend Mr. Poopybutthole's home planet, where his hopes to finally escape the clutches of his own celebrity were dashed like so many of the citizens waiting in the lobby had been against the wall, it would appear that Summer and Seivarden were indeed incarcerated in space jail, stripped of all their possessions, but, hey, at least the striped tops in this space jail were actually kind of cute, and they let Summer keep the hat from Mr. PB's disguise and Seivarden got to keep her gloves. They were small favors, perhaps, for all they were worth.

"I don't know how," Summer muttered to herself, clinging to the bars of the cell's door and glowering at the backs of the guards as they retreated after locking them up, "but I'll save you, PB. I'm gonna protect you..."

She was silent for a moment, and then cried out, "I am a citizen of Earth! I have rights! You can't treat me this way!"

But she knew it was falling on deaf ears, and she knew it was hopeless, so Summer gave a small kick to the door out of frustration, hopped a little while grabbing her toes because, fuck, that was a solid ass door!, and then bounced on one foot over to the wall, where her back hit it and she slid down slowly. Once there, she looked over miserably at Seivarden, but...at least she wasn't stuck in space jail alone.

"I'm sorry I, like, totally biffed this and got you thrown in space jail, Seivarden," she offered, though it sounded pretty lame and not at all helpful.

[[ for the gloved accomplice and whatever SP it may entail! and NFB fer distance, natch ]]

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"Why do you think we're mopey and dramatic?" Seivarden said, slightly irritated. "But yes, that is probably the best thing to do."

She paused.

"I really need a drink."

Because they were old-ass drama queens who took their issues way too seriously? But Summer figured the question was rhetorical, so she didn't go and say that.

She just grinned a little and said, "I'd ask the guard to bring us something, but I don't think we'd want to actually drink anything he'd serve us."

Edited 2020-08-09 16:20 (UTC)

Seivarden made a face. "I'm not that desperate."

She looked at Summer.

"If it wasn't for getting us stuck here I'd say you're fairly mature for your age."

"...thanks," said Summer, because her most recent thought process sort of made it seem like not quite the compliment Seivarden probably meant it to be, but it was still kind of nice when people noticed, even if she generally didn't expect people to (and that was sometimes by design).

"But what about this means I lose points on that?"

"Lose points? I'm sorry you failed a little at coming across as immature. What you said was actually quite sensible."

Seivarden almost smiled.

"By the way, I'm guessing you haven't told Amaya about figuring things out."

"You would guess correctly," Summer confirmed, and she definitely smile. "I would like to actually maintain my professional relationship with Amaya and she's not nearly as much fun to make fun of."

Miraculously, even more seemed to go over Amaya's head than even Seivarden's...

There was a pause.

"Are you saying I'm fun to make fun of?"

"Seivarden," Summer said, hitting her with one of those indulgent, eye-fluttering smiles, "you're, like, my favorite to make fun of."

Another pause.

"Should I be flattered?"

"Oh," Summer assured her with confidence, "most definitely. There is some very stiff competition there."

This was patently false. No one even came remotely close except maybe her brother, her dad, and Tino. And they were all way too easy.

Seivarden snorted.

"You need better hobbies."

She added: "Why?"

"This is me," said Summer, "with three jobs, a radio gig, a jello obsession, a mandate to lower the drinking age on the island as a whole, and a quest to get you home. Imagine what I'd be like if I was really bored."

And as for the why question? She didn't really say anything, because she honestly wasn't sure what the answer to that even was...

"Fine, you don't need new hobbies," Seivarden said, half smiling. "And I'll keep helping you with the lowering of the drinking age. It's ridiculous."

"Right?" said Summer, with emphasis. "It's so arbitrary! Like, okay, I get it, you don't want students in the bar, and it's important to keep some sort of distinction between Caritas and the DN besides basic aesthetics and the much younger, hipper, more vibrant staff of the former," AHEM, "but, like, there's a serious gap between the standard American drinking age and the graduation age that leaves a really viable market just adrift Eighteen-plus makes so much more sense!"

"Exactly," Seivarden said. "And trying to change it annoys the boring vampire."

Summer grinned a little at that, then bit her lip slightly, as she considered Seivarden for a moment.

"Next step of my plan," she offered, feeling it would be okay to trust Seivarden enough to divulge as much, "actually involved annoying the boring vampire. Don't say anything, though. It'll work best if he'd not expecting it."

That, and she was maybe realizing that going through Lucifer was pretty much useless, but she wasn't saying that to Seivarden.

"Of course I won't say anything," Seivarden. "I hardly talk to him anyway, and I'd like to see you succeed."

If only because Eric was boring and having Summer and Tisarwat being able to drink alcoholic drinks there would be more fun.

Some Space Jail; Planet [Unknown]; Dimension [Unknown]; Saturday [08/08].

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