Sometimes saving the world meant going out in your giant robot and destroying evil alien monsters before their giant robots had a chance to totally trash the city you lived in
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"Well, when the pile gets so big the bars on the cage start to buckle, I can see how they might start getting antsy." Xander eyed one of said piles. "Anything I can help with in there?"
Xander, who had reached for the top sheet on the pile, dropped it quickly and looked slightly horrified at his fingers before wiping them on his shirt. "Please tell me that's not living alien paper..."
"Oh, we stopped using that after they started demanding vacation time," Bridge said solemnly. "As if trying to find paperwork wasn't already a nightmare, we suddenly had to deal with 'oh, sorry, C through E is off in Hawaii this week, come back next Thursday.'"
"Why am I struck with the feeling that I could be having this exact conversation with Willow and never know the difference?" Xander mused. "Except for substitute magic or fairy or something for aliens."
"Among other physical differences like weight and shoe size, yeah." Eye. Roll. Good-natured eyeroll, but still. "But don't let Willow know I told you she wears size 12s. It's supposed to be our secret."
"My lips are sealed," Bridge promised. "Well, not literally, because I need them in order to be able to talk so I can do things like... my job." And other things that were definitely not job-related that Xander likely had a significant share of interest in.
Not that he had any idea where they could put it, space in their quarters being what it was, but details, details.
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