They've been stuck in this damn bubble for months now. Kal's completely lost track of how long it's been exactly. All he knows is that he's bored and things are starting to freak him out a little more.
He hasn't touched Eights in days, likely. It just doesn't really feel right anymore and he can barely think about what he's already done.
For the time being, he's crouched down at the bottom of the bubble, as far away from Eights as he can get. Which isn't far.
Eights notices things like this. She's a master of body language; Kal's discomfort with her is palpable. She hasn't said anything, having been content to lie cradled in the bottom of the bubble, in more or less the same place as she'd installed herself their first day in.
Eventually, however, she speaks.
"You know, your sudden change of heart over the last couple days is really lending weight to my Kal's On Drugs theory."
He doesn't move. Much. There really isn't anyplace to go. He does tense up, however, and flatten himself against the wall behind him as much as he can. He also doesn't kiss her back.
"And you wouldn't happen to know any bright candy-red substances you've been imbibing in ridiculous quantities lately? I hate to say it, but I think the blame for this little fiasco can be laid squarely at my doorstep. Cut me a little slack though, I had no idea they made Scorcher with crazy alien drugs."
"It's... god, I'm dangerous on that stuff. I could have killed..." and he'll just trail off again and sink back down slowly to the bottom of the bubble.
He hasn't touched Eights in days, likely. It just doesn't really feel right anymore and he can barely think about what he's already done.
For the time being, he's crouched down at the bottom of the bubble, as far away from Eights as he can get. Which isn't far.
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Eventually, however, she speaks.
"You know, your sudden change of heart over the last couple days is really lending weight to my Kal's On Drugs theory."
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He shifts uncomfortably and finally just decides to stand up, stretching out his legs.
"Drugs don't work on me." However, as he says that, he frowns. "Usually."
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Eights rises to her feet and plants a (mostly chaste) kiss on Kal's lips, every movement smooth, controlled and sensual.
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"Don't."
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"You take my point, don't you? You move like I'm a tiger and you're afraid I'll eat you."
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He runs a nervous hand through is hair.
"How much longer are we in here for?"
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Eights taps the wall and frowns.
"Like two-thirds of the year left or something, I think. And quit changing the subject. What do you mean, usually?"
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"There's one thing that affects me, but you wouldn't have access to it."
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"Yeah, why?"
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"And you wouldn't happen to know any bright candy-red substances you've been imbibing in ridiculous quantities lately? I hate to say it, but I think the blame for this little fiasco can be laid squarely at my doorstep. Cut me a little slack though, I had no idea they made Scorcher with crazy alien drugs."
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The wheels are turning and yes, Scorcher is certainly very, very red, but it can't be.
"No. It's a rock and..." he trails off, covering his face with his hands. "Oh, god."
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"Fuck."
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Eights' tone of voice is bitter with self-loathing, and she's taken on the unsightly habit of nibbling her fingernails.
"Why am I such an idiot when I'm on vacation?" she asks rhetorically, spitting nail fragments into her lap.
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