WHO: Tabby and Metabee
WHERE: somewhere in the city center
WHEN: September 5th (tomorrow) in the afternoon
WARNINGS: Idiots
SUMMARY: Tabby and Metabee bond over popsicles then get attacked by seagulls.
FORMAT: Quicklog or paragraph? That's a good question
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Fire Away! )
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"Aw yeah. Who rocks?"
She points between the two of them.
"Uh-huh. That's us."
In the meanwhile, the six-year-old who'd been snatching for a popsicle too is staring up at them with a look of horror on his face.
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She smacks his hand with her own, then spins toward the counter.
"Woo-ha! Let's go pay for these suckers! I'll treat. Good taste should be rewarded!"
At this point, the six-year-old decides that he's had enough of this gloating in front of his face and screaming.
"Mom! Mom, I wanna popsicle too! Mom! Mom!"
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"God, that was pretty awful, dude. I dunno if you still deserve popsicle goodness."
Of course, then the kid tips himself over and starts beating the ground with his fists.
Tabby looks over, then back.
"One sec."
Poker-faced, she slides money over to the cashier, then ambles over the the kid and leans down with a smile on her face that is slightly too wide to be normal.
"Hey kid."
The kid blinks and falls silent with a hiccup, staring at the lady in front of him. Maybe she is going to give him a popsicle?
Tabby pops him in the nose with a finger.
"Suck it up."
There's a beat of calm as the mother starts turning red. Before she manages to start huffing, Tabby's dashing out the door. She laughs and hollers back at Bee.
"Run or the lady'll eat you!"
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When she's down to a walk, she unwraps her popsicle and holds it up in a toasting gesture.
"To watermelon goodness."
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"So, like, I just realize? I never got your name, dude."
She looks over at him and grins without a hint of embarrassment at her oversight.
"I'm Tabby, though. Nice to meetcha!"
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Tabby cocked her head to the side.
"You- Are you one of the ported-in kids?"
Geez, what a coincidence to run into a fellow hero.
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"Medabot, huh? Cool. So, what, you're some kind of robot healer dude?"
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She considers this, then slowly ventures a question.
"So you, like, ran around eating other people's awards an' stuff? What, did you wait at track meets to snatch the ribbons offa little kids' chests or somethin'?"
Her question is actually serious.
No really, it is.
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