[milliways: kidplot]

[hate_gettin_older]

What the hell is this place?

Edgar's only sure of three things: (1) it isn't the Tail, therefore (2) he's not supposed to be here, and (3) he's going to be in the worst kind of trouble if a guard sees him. Or anyone who'll call a guard.

The thing is, he's not sure how this could be the Front either. But he's not sure how it could be anyplace else.

For the moment, he's got to try and get out of sight. Maybe under one of those tables.

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah follows suit, very carefully bunching up her skirt so she doesn't get it dirty. (It's still getting dirty, but at least she's trying, right?)

As soon as she gets settled, with her plate between them all, she reaches out and tugs on Curtis's sleeve. "What's his name?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Nah, I ..." He glances down at the bowl of candy, and squirms a bit before saying "... took some for later."

They've got so much. It would be easy to hate them, except that they're sharing it all so easily. Like they're not even Front.

[2goodarms]

"Oh. Okay."

He hunches up his shoulders an inch at Dejah's question. He should've told her that first! "He's Edgar. 'M Curtis. What's your name?"

[dejah_thoris]

He doesn't know! He really, really doesn't know who she is! This is AMAZING.

"I'm Dejah. Hi Curtis. Hi Edgar."

Why are they whispering? Why is she blushing now? What in the twin moons is going on here?

[hate_gettin_older]

"Hi."

A touch self-consciously, Edgar reaches down to start gathering up the parts of the half-burger he disassembled.

[2goodarms]

"Oh, um -- "

Curtis tries for a smile.

"You can keep the rest of that one if you want. It's okay."

[dejah_thoris]

"You can have some of mine, too. If you're still hungry. Or to take for later. I don't mind."

[hate_gettin_older]

"I just wanted to, y'know, try and see what all the parts were," he mutters.

[2goodarms]

"Oh."

(He seems to be saying that a lot. It's making him turn red again -- he sounds like an idiot.)

"The brown stuff's hamburger," he offers. "The rest is just vegetables and stuff. Oh and the red, yellow, and white stuff is ketchup, mustard, and mayo." Beat. "The little green ones are pickles, but they're kinda gross. I usually pick 'em out."

[dejah_thoris]

"These?"

Dejah picks out one of the small green disks and takes a nibble. She pulls a face quickly thereafter.

"Ugh! I can see why!"

[hate_gettin_older]

Well, that's a challenge if he ever saw one.

Edgar reaches for one of the green things, pops it into his mouth, and chews.



And chews, frowning consideringly.

[2goodarms]

"Right?" Curtis says, brightening considerably at Dejah's reaction. "They're so gross. I dunno why they always put 'em in there."

...Edgar seems like he likes them, though. Weird.

Well, he can have Curtis's if he wants!

[dejah_thoris]

"I like these, though."

She's plucked out a juicy bit of tomato and is happily nomming on it. It seems a strange thing to disassemble one's food after someone so carefully put it together, but she's content to follow their lead.

"So you two aren't from Helium, I take it?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Nah." He shakes his head without looking up, more interested in trying a taste of the pulpy red vegetable than in the question.

[2goodarms]

Curtis shakes his head, too.

"'M from Boston. Where's Helium?"

Probably somewhere in Europe. Or even further. Maybe Australia.

[dejah_thoris]

"It's on Barsoom."

She blinks, and something, thought she's not sure what, makes her add, "What you call Mars."

Mars. Earth. Barsoom & Jasoom. Two worlds separated by millions of cariads of empty space. How does she even know that?

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar stops chewing, and looks at her cockeyed.

With his best sarcastic politeness, he says "Oh is that it. Well. Definitely not from America, then."

[2goodarms]

Curtis, meanwhile, is staring at Dejah with his mouth hanging open.

Oh no. She's pretty, but she's crazy. What has he gotten himself into? Is it too late to run away?!

(He might still pull her hair on the way out from under the table, though.)

"No you're not," he finally says, with all the scorn he can muster.

[dejah_thoris]

"I'm not what?" She glances up from her dissected burger, confused. Why is he so angry at her? What is wrong with everyone here today?

"Not from Barsoom? Of course I am, silly. Why wouldn't I be?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Well, you'd be an alien for starters, wouldn't you."

Edgar does not appreciate being expected to believe some ridiculous lie.

(Especially not from some Front girl with her perfect little dress and her shiny hair and her la-di-dah airs, like some miniature Mason.)

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," Curtis chimes in. He grabs a handful of candy from the bowl. "Like Area 51."

One of his friends brought a big book about aliens to school once. It was pretty cool. Curtis didn't believe any of it, not like Ralph, and they got into a fight at recess over it (Ralph: one black eye; Curtis: one bloody nose), but it was still pretty cool.

[dejah_thoris]

She knows what the word means but the context throws her off. She frowns at both of them.

"I'm not from Area 51. I'm from Helium. I was hatched in the palace birthing pools just five ords ago."

"But then, you're both in a place where a magic bar gives you food out of thin air, so why would you believe you've met someone from another planet? Psh."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Another planet and a palace?" Edgar's eyebrows are about ready to climb off the top of his forehead. "So you're not just an alien then, you're an alien princess. From Mars."

[dejah_thoris]

"So what if I am a princess? And it's Barsoom."

She just manages to bite back 'Earthling', but that would be mean. And while she's allowed to be opinionated, she's not allowed to be mean.

"Why? Where are you from?"

[2goodarms]

Now that Dejah's pointed it out, it does seem kinda ridiculous that Curtis is getting so hung up on her being an alien, but --

"We're from Earth! Like everybody!"

For some reason, this just crosses the line of his weird threshold. Especially when she's talking about stuff like hatching. And what the heck's an ord?