don't ask
(Or if you do, ask lyssie...)
"I don't know," Tyrol said, grimacing as he eyed the jar in Sam's hand. "I think it's gonna be way too sticky."
But Sam just licked his finger, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure. "Gods. So sweet."
"We don't need it to be sweet. We need it to be good lubricant."
"I know that."
"Hell, I'm not even sure we should be wasting it on--"
"I haven't seen you come up with a better idea, and you're the one who oughtta frakking know about how to--"
"I know," he snapped. Then he sighed. "Okay. It's just..."
"Look, I don't like it any better than you do, but we need something, and this is what we have."
So Tyrol took the jar from him and frowned at it.
Sam said, "It won't be so tacky when things get all warmed up."
"Hopefully. Might melt off altogether, though."
"Well, we have to try something."
Tyrol couldn't disagree, but that didn't make it seem like any better of an idea. He couldn't stop staring at the jar, thinking about how it seemed a crime to put something like that to such practical use.
Sam said, "Try some."
"If I try some, I won't wanna..."
"Yeah."
"We'll need as much of it as we can use, anyway. If it works at all."
"You'd think you didn't actually want it to work." Tyrol just glared at Sam, but Sam grinned at him and added, "C'mon. If you put your mind to it and stop being so negative, I know you can find a way to get us up and going again."
His enthusiasm made Tyrol smile, in spite of himself. But it was still with great reluctance that he scooped out some of that heavenly-smelling orange marmalade with his first two fingers and began to slick it down into the guts of the downed raptor's flight controls.
~
"I don't know," Tyrol said, grimacing as he eyed the jar in Sam's hand. "I think it's gonna be way too sticky."
But Sam just licked his finger, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure. "Gods. So sweet."
"We don't need it to be sweet. We need it to be good lubricant."
"I know that."
"Hell, I'm not even sure we should be wasting it on--"
"I haven't seen you come up with a better idea, and you're the one who oughtta frakking know about how to--"
"I know," he snapped. Then he sighed. "Okay. It's just..."
"Look, I don't like it any better than you do, but we need something, and this is what we have."
So Tyrol took the jar from him and frowned at it.
Sam said, "It won't be so tacky when things get all warmed up."
"Hopefully. Might melt off altogether, though."
"Well, we have to try something."
Tyrol couldn't disagree, but that didn't make it seem like any better of an idea. He couldn't stop staring at the jar, thinking about how it seemed a crime to put something like that to such practical use.
Sam said, "Try some."
"If I try some, I won't wanna..."
"Yeah."
"We'll need as much of it as we can use, anyway. If it works at all."
"You'd think you didn't actually want it to work." Tyrol just glared at Sam, but Sam grinned at him and added, "C'mon. If you put your mind to it and stop being so negative, I know you can find a way to get us up and going again."
His enthusiasm made Tyrol smile, in spite of himself. But it was still with great reluctance that he scooped out some of that heavenly-smelling orange marmalade with his first two fingers and began to slick it down into the guts of the downed raptor's flight controls.
~