milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ray hasn't been in sight for most of today (he's been sticking things to other things and cutting things up before sticking them together, and you may take that however you like). He's had it about up to here with that for the day, though, so he's in the bar now.

Did you know that if you just ask the Bar for 'food', and you're geekish enough, she gives you this brownish stuff on a plate? It's not recognizable visually and it doesn't smell like anything particularly memorable, but it tastes ... um... not very recognizable either. It's just food.

He's got some. Yay him.

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Sure enough, Scribble give s agood, hard tug-and finds herself stumbling backwards. She teeters unsteadily on one foot for a few moments before dropping back down, shaking her head and snorting. The little raptor trots back up to Ray, dropping the toy in front of him and yeeping.

This earns a scratch where 'behind the ears' would be if she had external pinnae and a few more shreds of turkey. "Good girl," Ray murmus. "Wanna play ball now? I've got the ball." He holds it up. "Look! Ball!"

She snorts at the scratching, gobbling down the jerky with a happy squeak. The sight of the ball makes crouch down into a more predatory stance, her head held low and her forearms drawn up close to her body as she eyeballs it. "Snhrr..."

How can you not be enchanted with a look like that? "Scribble, fetch!" Ray says, tossing the ball lightly in a direction she'll be able to run without hitting too many tables.

"Snnhrrwaaark!" Scribble lets out a squeakier, tinny verison of her parents' screech and dives after the ball, scrabbling on the floor for a moment before pouncing on it. She grabs it and shakes it like a terrier with a rat, then trots back to Ray.

Perfect. Ray slaps the floor. "Scribble, drop," he says, the other hand grabbing for some more turkey. Meanwhile, he's mentally comparing Scribble's growth to the size she was the last time he'd seen her. He's got this urge to see what happens if she takes on a devil bunny.

She's several inches taller-and more than a few pounds heavier. It looks like she's growing rather quickly. Scribble yeeps and drops the ball, her attention going to the turkey.

Ray nods thoughtfully to himself and looks down at Scribble. "I think you'll probably be just about big enough to deal with the rabbits soon," he says. "Maybe once you get a few bigger lizards."

He waits for the turkey to disappear before holding up the ball again. "Scribble, fetch!"

Scribble just chirps as he talks-she still doesn't understand many words. 'Fetch', however, is one that she's become familiar with. With a sqauwk, she runs backwards, anticipating the way the ball will go.

Which was exactly the point, really. 'Drop' was probably the most critical word, after her own name. If someone knows to call her Scribble, she'll probably listen to them long enough to think that they might give her food, instead of being something to bite. If she hears 'drop', she knows she'll get food in exchange for whatever she's got in her mouth, and 'fetch', well... that's something else again. That's for future use, possibly. Plus it's fun.

The ball skitterbounces a few times before Scribble catches up with it, but she's got the direction right for certain.

It's definitely fun-while her mother watches boredly, Scribble appears to be having a ball. She yaps as she chases after the ball, pouncing again and this time managing to hook the claws on her feet around it. She sniffs at it as she tries to keep her grip, then lifts the foot and seizes it. Head held high, she trots back to Ray.

Excellent. He's going to have to start her on larger balls soon, at the rate her feet are growing. Ray slaps the floor with one hand. "Drop, Scribble," he says.

Hmmm. Maybe that robotic dog project needs to- no, he can't do that, even to train her to chase things for hunting. She'd bite and hit metal and it would only confuse her.

Obediently, Scribble drops the ball and looks to Ray for food, waving her foreclaws. "Yeepyeep!" She arches her neck and puffs her chest out a bit-she's trying to show off.

And she's doing an excellent job. Ray grins and reaches for his plate of seared meat; he's going to see how she takes to cooked food, since he's willing to bet her family hasn't scavenged anything off a forest fire or lightning strike site in Scribble's life to date. "Here," he says, tossing her a slice before biting into one of his own.

She snaps down the meat, tilting her head to the side. It atstes...different. Not bad-she's not picky at all-but different. She looks back to Ray for a moment, then tilts her head again. "Yeep?"

Ray finishes his own slice (his teeth aren't as good as hers) and rolls the ball around on his fingers, thinking. "Fetch," he says again, sending the ball sliding away across the floor; he turns to ask the Bar for something. When Scribble returns, he's going to have a sheet of plastic with a handle on it waiting. A sheet big enough for Scribble to ride on, it so happens.

Scribble, of course, goes skittering after it. It rolls across the floor, bumping into Red. The older raptor sniffs at it and snorts, nosing it back to Scribble. She seizes it and trots back, eyeballing the sheet curiously as she sets the ball down.

Ray sets a handful of meat down on the plastic sheet, pocketing the ball. When Scribble's wolfed it down, because he knows she will, he takes up the handle. "Hang on tight, kiddo," he says, and starts to slide it lightly across the floor by means of the handle.

Scribble does wolf it down, with her usual speed and singlemindedness. When the sheet starts moving, she meeps, then hangs on and begins to trill. She remembers doing this sort of thing with Naraht-and this time she doesn't ahve to squabble with her siblings over a spot. The chick continues to trill, waving her foreclaws.

Ray makes a mental note to get a red wagon for this next time, because running around with a dinosaur in a kid's red wagon would just be too cool for words. As it stands, he's got some decent space to work with in the bar. Red tends to clear the area by her very presence, so he's going to take Scribble for a ride back and forth near Mom.

REd is currently watching the pair with a tilted head-it's the closest she can come to a look of bewilderment. She's not exactly sure what's going on, but Scribble seems all right, so she'll allow it.

Scribble, meanwhile, continues trilling and waving her claws, apparently having a grand old time.

Hey, the instant Red starts to look like she's not happy with the goings-on, Ray will stop in his tracks. You don't ignore the momma carnosaur.

He glances over his shoulder at Scribble and changes direction, doing a careful figure-eight if it looks like she can hold on through the directional changes.

"Wheeeep!" Scribble continues to cheerfully wave her forelcaws, turning around so she can watch from the opposite direction.

Red just snorts at her chick then yawns, resting her head on the floor. Both her offspring and the fuzzy tickbird may be apparently insane, but they seem all right together.

Oh, even the other fuzzy tickbirds think this particular tickbird is insane.

Ray laughs and makes one complete circuit around Red before finally coming to a stop. "There you go, kiddo," he says as he crouches down. "Ride's over for now."

Scribble turns around as the ride stops, yapping at Ray and bouncing a bit. She butts her head against his knee, still waving her claws happily. Her mother may not uderstand it, but Scribble seems to enjoy the ride greatly.