(Untitled)

[wormholed]

Scorpius perched his hideous form on the washer and removed the Safari hat from his head. You're being too particular. The red swim trunks were more than adequate.

"Adequate?" asked Crichton. He fished the red speedo from the floor where he'd thrown it ten minutes ago. "I said I wanted to go swimming, not speak in falsetto for the rest of my

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[thebonelady]

"This is not being very discreet," Temperance said from the doorway, but she was smiling anyway. After all, she wasn't going to be able to hide it forever, and she needed to come to peace with things fast.

She wished the alien in John's head would at least be helpful and tell him not to hoard in public.

[wormholed]

"I was lookin' for trunks," John drawled, stretching the syllables the way he always did when he was looking to win someone over. It didn't matter what part of the universe he was in, there was always someone ready to go for the good ol' boy act.

Of course, Temperance already knew his tricks, such as they were, but John was pretty sure she thought it was cute. He nudged the box. "I think it's trying to tell us something, and that something is it wants us to have the best dressed baby on the island."

[thebonelady]

"Why does it matter what the baby wears? As an infant, it will have no real concept of ego or self until... until it's outgrown that kitten leotard you're holding." To tell the truth, she hadn't been able to coax this kind of thing from the box.

It must think John had more maternal instincts. Damn that correct piece of allegedly humorous CRAP.

[wormholed]

John sniggered. "Leotard? Baby, this is a onesie." He took a breath and tried to speak her language. "It is a sacred social tenant of Western culture that all children between the ages of one month and twelve be clad in tiny leotards, also known as onesies, that form a protective shell around baby's tender skin while..." He popped the snaps, holding the flap open for her. "Allowing for easy access when they make a poopie."

[thebonelady]

Her nose wrinkled. "I see. I can't just..." No, she supposed it couldn't just be allowed to crawl around like a child in a more ancient culture. "Then I suppose we should be collecting them, yes."

[wormholed]

"They're really cute," said John, holding up the one with kittens for her to take. "My mama showed me all my old baby clothes, once. Get this, they had rocket ships on'em. You think the path to a kid's destiny is in its underwear?"

[thebonelady]

"If that's true, we should be very careful with what we choose," Temperance said, her mouth tightening as she pondered on this very possible possibility. "What would... kittens... mean?"

A kitten farmer?

[wormholed]

"Something about a pussy cat," said John. "Or a tiger." He eyed the onesie with suspicion and tossed it. "Neither of which we want if it's a girl in there." He began to dig again. "Lemme find one with microscopes."

[thebonelady]

"That's much more appropriate than what I was thinking," Temperance said, brushing away the image of yowling cats breaking through the sandy island soil. "You really think there is one? ...should we be pushing her strongly towards one thing?"

[wormholed]

"That's a good point," John grunted from the depths of the box. "Most kids do exactly the opposite of what you want'em to. We should probably be pushing for race car driver. Or professional balloon artist."