milliways_bar | (no subject)

Cal has seen enough of Stitch in action that, when a poncho pops up in lieu of the raktajino he was expecting (accompanied with a napkin bearing an arrow that helpfully directs his gaze to the sight of Stitch poised over the cake), he knows Bar isn't kidding.

He yanks the poncho over his head just in time. Amazing how fast a human man can move when he has to.

It's almost as if Cal didn't want to be covered in coconut shavings!

The cake's demise is just about as enthusiastically horrific as Cal probably guessed it wound be. Who knew frosting had such a wide splash radius? Somewhere around halfway through the cake, something finally pings on Stitch's radar.

Peering down the bar, he takes note of Cal watching him and stares back in sticky silence.

An arm is pointedly placed between Cal and what remains of the cake. Given that the cake is currently coating most of his immediate vicinity, this doesn't block it from view as well as Stitch probably hopes.

Cal is less concerned about the ick factor than he would have been prior to working at the shelter. Slobbery, cake-crumb-y frosting is a treat compared to what he's gotten used to dealing with from the animals there.

But he knows from experience that frosting really sticks in your hair.

It takes him a few seconds to recognize the protective gesture for what it is, because seriously, who would want the remains of that cake enough to fight Stitch for it? Especially if they've been watching the carnage.

When realization does dawn, though, he says hastily,

"Oh! No, all yours." He holds up his hands (under the poncho, which fortunately is made of clear plastic) to indicate his lack of secret cake-stealing weapons. "I'm just, uh - don't worry about it."

Cal is peered at dubiously.

"heh-Hiiiiiieeeee."

"Hi."

Pause.

"Carry on."

He'd like to be sure Stitch is finished before he tries to take off the poncho.

As if he needed an invitation.

The cake's remnants atr shoveled in to the alien's gaping maw with both hands. Ever see a dog try to eat something it shouldn't whilst simultaniously attempting to flee? It's sort of like that. Only, amidst the snorting, crumb spraying and less than pleasant wet smacking sounds, a dog would probably do it with more dignity.

By the end there's frosting all down his front.

Clementine's almost used to bumping into talking ponies and vampires. But a blue alien eating a coconut cake as messily as possible is a new one for her.

She watches the spectacle of Stitch eating sans-poncho, and manages not to get too many stray flakes of coconut on her. He's lost some crumbs, and Clem nudges them back toward Stitch's side. "Lost these."

Stitch's pace does not falter. One might be forgiven in assuming Clem has gone unnoticed until, face still buried deep in the cake's innards, a clawed hand plucks the fist full of crumbs off of Bar's surface and swings forward in the general direction of where his mouth probably is.

She will be acknowledged once the carnage has ceased. Probably.

Clementine's willing to wait; after all, she's still got those cherries in her hand, and she's not gonna put 'em in her mouth.

She's also got frosting all over her sunglasses, but she's encountered worse damage while watching Junior tuck into a pile of tacos. She considers licking them but instead wipes them on some bar-provided napkins. She'll be there when Stitch is all done, but probably with frosting in her hair.

It doesn't take terribly long. Once the cake has dissapeared (and the cake stand is hastily reabsorbed into the counter minus a mouthful or two) the alien wipes his face with the back of a forearm and peers at her with interest.

"heh-ha-Hiiiiiiiiii."

Which is to say thank you as well. Or it would if he ever remembered that part.

Clem chuckles. She's not too terribly spattered and the spectacle was worth what damage she did incur.

"Hi yourself." she takes a sip of her (frosting-coated) beer bottle and smirks. "Where'd you come from, little guy?"

"Home."

Blink.

He snuffles enthusiastically in the bottle's direction befgore pulling a face. Alchohol and sensitive muscus membranes do not mix.

She nods her head at the karmic possibilities of that answer. "Groovy. But where's home?" She pulls the bottle back when he makes a face. "Want some water to wash all that down with?"

Kate blinks at the sudden apparition on the Bar in front of her.

Well, it ... it sort of looks like a poncho. But what the hell sort of material is it made out of? She frowns, and glances around for any kind of explanation.

Oh.

OMNOMNOMNOM.

She may want to put that thing on. Or back out of shrapnel range. Stitch tends to eat with enthusiasm.

Eventually, once the cake stand has been licked clean, the creature turns its head in the direction of Kate's stool and peers back at her.

A glob of coconut falls off his ear and hits the floor with a splat.

Blink.

Kate wipes coconut off her nose. She'll deal with changing her clothes later.

"Well, you're a ... hungry lil' fella."

She just barely yanked the plastic poncho between them before things got really ugly. She turns it around to examine the cakey ink blot impression left in his wake.

Blink.

A forearm is used to remove some of the cake from his face before Kate is treated to a headtilt. Is she going to eat that poncho?

"heh-ha-Hiiiiieeeee," greets the creature in a croaking voice.

Her eyes widen to the size of silver dollars.

Teeth. There ... teeth, and speaking. And.

Teeth.

"...Hello. So, y'can speak."

That's a good sign, isn't it? Speech indicates intelligence, which hopefully points to conscience, which in turn means she won't be next on the menu — right?

She cautiously extends one cake-splattered hand.

"I-I'm Kate."

Stitch snickers in response. It's an affirmation of sorts. Or her expression is funny. Or both.

Two enormous eyes narrow thoughtfully as he reaches out with his own much smaller hand to gently peel some of the cake off her palm. This goes in his mouth.

Oh, right.

"My name Stitch," announces the alien in stilted tones.

Oh, and claws. How wonderful!

Kate watches with rapt attention as he swallows up the cake remnants, before she remembers her manners. It's rude to watch someone eat. Er.

"Stitch."

She smiles experimentally.

"Nice to, ah. Meet you."

She lays the poncho on the Bar. Stitch can feel free to do with it as he chooses.

Stitch would happily take her up on that if the counter didn't reabsorb the poncho once his intentions become apparent. It earns a scowl. The Bar's finish gleams innocently.

His attention returns to Kate in short order.

"Ih."

Beat.

Blink.

"Nice hat."

Edited 2011-08-22 00:44 (UTC)

"Nice coat."

If not for the lingering surprise in her system, she might be on the verge of hysterics by this point.

"It's a lovely shade of blue."

That prompts another headtilt in the opposite direction of the first.

She's peered at through wide, sclera-less eyes.

"You okay?"

Stitch's expression belies his doubts on the matter. He's not wearing a coat.

Edited 2011-08-22 00:56 (UTC)

She leans back ever so slightly. Those eyes could swallow a body up.

Her lips twitch, and she laughs very quietly.

"I'm not familiar with your kind."

It's offered as an explanation.

"I think I'm okay. Unless I've hit my head without knowin' it."

Oh, that.

She's treated to a few more moments of silent blinking as this is mulled over.

"Stitch is Stitch. Is... new." The grimace is not as pronounced as it once was. He's had to explain this a few times. "From Kauaʻi."

She nods solemnly.

"I'm from Earth."

Beat.

"Texas."

And clearly untrained on precisely how one is supposed to proceed in conversation with a ... Stitch.

Stitch faceplants onto the Bar. Or he would if he were not cheerfully intercepted by a cushion.

You haven't lived until you've seen a fuzzy blue koala thing glare daggers at a piece of furniture!

There follows some dark, incomprehensible mumbling. The look Kate recieves isn't much more charitable.

"Me too." Really now.

Kate blinks at the cushion.

He must do that a lot.

"You too?"

Is he ... is that ... sarcasm?

Kate's expression flattens.

"You're pretty smart, huh?"

It's been known to happen, yes.

Stitch sighs, narrowing his eyes in frustration. What we have her is a failure to communicate. And it cheeses him off.

Wait!

"Hey," this would be directed at Bar if his gently wrapping on her surface is any indication. "Oom chickee gu soomish. Goobaja. Maka maka."

A photo materializes.

"Me too," the alien repeats passing it to her with visible care. "Home is on Kauaʻi."

Edited 2011-08-22 02:35 (UTC)

"Oh."

She examines the photo.

"I've never heard of it. Miss Bar?"

A helpful map appears, with a red arrow pointing to the islands of Hawaii.

"Oh, goodness! I guess we're not so different as I thought."

She turns to look at Stitch.

"...Though, I've never seen anythin' quite like you before."

"Stitch special." One hand absently rubs the fur on the oppostite forearm.

No awkwardness here!

The hardened criminal is completely unaffected by his display.

"Aww."

Completely. Unaffected.

"One of a kind, then? An' this here," she says, pointing to the photograph; "this is your family?"

Stitch nods hard enough to make his back teeth rattle. That's what he's been saying!

"Ih! Lilo. Lilo found Stitch." This is all accompanied by helpful pointing at the small figure in the photo. The odd emphasis on 'found' goes unexplained.

"Lilo."

She nods, eyeing the young girl in the photo.

"Does Lilo know you come here with a sweet tooth?" she asks with an arched eyebrow, nodding to the cake stand and the carnage.

"Lilo comes here." Each syllable is tacked down with audible deliberation.

There is a pause before another figure is pointed to in after thought.

"Pleakley too." Judging by the tone, Pleakley is... not held in as high regard.

Edited 2011-08-27 03:10 (UTC)

"Is Pleakley from Kauaʻi, too?"