milliways_bar | (no subject)

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And here we have the Washicus pilotica in its natural habitat, carrying on an animated, one-sided conversation with Bar.

Don't bother eavesdropping. It's in Chinese.

So is the gift list he's holding.

He's so not above using his linguistic skills in an underhanded way when he has to.

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Tinysaur onyer shoulder.

When Petrie lands, Wash starts a little and looks over. His face relaxes into a broad grin.

"Look at you." He balances as much of his weight on his good leg as he can, lets go of one of his crutches, and reaches over to skritch the top of Petrie's head. "Hey, Petrie."

"Hello, Wash!" he chirps, butting his head into the skritching.

The balancing act lasts a little longer than it would have a month and a half ago, but not by much. Wash quickly re-situates himself on the crutches.

"How've you been? Haven't seen you in a few months."

His time sense isn't so great.

"Is it? I have been fine. How have you been?"

"Pretty shiny." He grins. "Anybody explained New Year's to you? Or Christmas?"

"No. What are they?"

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flybywash - 2005-12-20 01:32 (UTC) - Expand

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There's another tinysaur coming to greet him as well, although she's of the predatory persuasion. Scribble remembers Wash's scent-and more importantly to her, remembers that he's one of the fuzzy tickbirds that gives out food. She peers up at him, "Yeep!"ing in hopes of getting his attention, as well as a meal.

Hey, yeah. He knows that 'yeep!'

...Not that Wash has a lot of other 'yeep!'s to compare it to, but, you know.

"Well, hey. I remember you," he says, delighted. "How've you been? Been keeping well? Learning to strike fear in the hearts of herbivores everywhere?"

As he says this, he puts a hand flat on the Bar and murmurs a request for French toast. He's got a good memory.

"Yeepyeepyeep!" She doesn't understand a word he's saying, but she likes the fact that she's being paid attention to. The chick bounces from foot to foot waving her foreclaws in the air. It's partially a display of overexcitement, and partially a way to show off. She's been getting bigger-and that includes her claws and teeth.

Teething will be coming soon. Be afraid.

Be very afraid. No finger, foot, or trouser leg is safe.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' to everything," Wash laughs, and tears off a piece of French toast to lob at her, gently. "Especially the last bit -- God, you're getting big."

"Squeep!" The bouncing only increases at the sight and smell of the food. It's snapped down in a matter of seconds, with no time wasted. Wasted time means less time to eat. Scribble tilts her head to the side as she peers at Wash again, hopeful.

"You'll only rot your teeth and it'll go straight to your thighs and other appropriate health warnings," Wash says with an affected sigh.

After stealing a bit of French toast for himself, and after a few seconds' worth of carefully eyeing those claws and teeth, Wash braces himself on the Bar and leans over to deposit the plate on the floor. He straightens up as quickly as he can to get out of the way of pending raptor attack.

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redsnout.livejournal.com - 2005-12-19 23:52 (UTC) - Expand

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flybywash - 2005-12-20 01:25 (UTC) - Expand

Looks like a trend has been set, and who is Ducky to fail to follow the requirements of peer pressure?

"Hello, Human-pilot," chirps a voice from the direction of his ankle.

Wash looks down.

He makes this face: :D!

"Hey, Ducky. How've you been?"

"I have been well! Are you well?"

The tiny dino contemplates his leg as a possible ladder.

"I'm pretty shiny, yeah. You want a way up here?"

He angles out one of his crutches a few more inches, offering it. It'll work a lot better than the leg.

"Yes please, thank you!"

Ducky begins her laborious but happy toil upwards. Life is good for a baby dinosaur in a bar.

Wash waits, patiently, until she's within easy reach. Then he holds out a hand for her to step onto.

"So what kind've stuff have you been getting up to? Any wacky adventures?"

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duck-bill.livejournal.com - 2005-12-20 03:01 (UTC) - Expand

"Waaaaaaaash!"

Tinysaur charging yer legs!

"Cera!" And then, not quite as delighted, "Watch the leg watch the leg -- "

He tries to angle himself so it's his good leg getting the brunt of the collision.

She does manage to pull herself up so she only charges him a little bit.

"Is your leg still poorly?"

"Yeah," he says, and smiles. It's a bit rueful. "Hopefully it ain't gonna stay that way a lot longer. Maybe this time I'll say that and it'll actually be true."

It could be worse -- it could be a hell of a lot worse -- but it's also been two months of putting up with this. He's more than a little fidgety.

"How're you doing?"

"I made a new friend!" Cera says. "his name's Wes and he's a human-pilot too and he warned me to look out for ewoks and I'm going to be in Security and I have a new clothes and its pink!"

It's kind of amazing that Wash managed to catch all of that. He blinks, a little bemused, and decides to settle on the first thing he doesn't understand.

"An ee-what?"