(no subject)
Plourr, dressed in the baggy, eye-blindingly orange Rogue Squadron flightsuit, is sitting at the bar with a glass (of water; she's technically on-duty, after all, and she does what she's supposed to do. you know, once in a while) and a small plate. On the plate is a quivering green mass. She is alternating staring in stunned disgust, and poking it with a spoon to watch it jigglejigglejiggle its way back into place.
This pilot has never seen Jello before.
She doesn't trust it, as can probably be interpreted from the skeptical frown.
She wonders if it would bounce if she threw it.
This pilot has never seen Jello before.
She doesn't trust it, as can probably be interpreted from the skeptical frown.
She wonders if it would bounce if she threw it.