"What on earth possessed you to buy twelve of these?" Roger eyed the action figures on the metal table in the middle of the Loft. "I mean, come on, Mark. We really don't need twelve random stormtroopers."
"Of course we do, Roger. They were ten cents at the store down the street that's closing. I want to see if I can do some stop-motion film, and really, I can't have a better subject. I know I have a Luke around here somewhere..."
"Have I told you lately, Mark, how crazy you are?" Roger shook his head ruefully.
Mark looked over the top of his projector, tossing a Jedi action figure towards the metal tabel. "Only about ten times a week, Roger. Now, help me set these things up."
"You do realize that swordplay is about as outdated as paper and pens." Alai bounced on the balls of his feet on one of the gym mats, a bit of a confused expression on his face.
"Swordplay, Alai, is a noble art. It teaches you to think on your feet, not only mentally, but physically." Ender grinned at his fellow launchie. "At least that's my understanding of it."
"That doesn't mean that it's useful here, Ender. We're being taught to..."
"We're being taught to fight, Alai. This is another method of it. So, are you game?" Ender raised his sword. "Duel. Until someone falls over."
Alai smiled ruefully. "And damned be he who first cries 'hold, enough!'," he quoted, bracing himself.
"I realize I might not actually want to know the answer to this, but... why whipped cream?" It had been about a full minute before Roger could get any words out at all.
"Well, I thought that it would be an interesting addition to everything else." Mark grinned up at Roger. "I mean, seriously. What else were you expecting?"
"Certainly not this." Roger gaped openly, not exactly sure if he really wanted to see the scene opening before his eyes. He never thought that he'd see Mark... and... just... no.
Mark beamed. "I'm going to wash up." He walked away from the table, leaving Roger to gape at the scene in front of him. A lop-sided cake graced the table, 'frosted' in whipped cream, with tiny bits of film on toothpicks decorating it. Only Mark.
"Mmm...launchmeat. Tastes good on toast." The stocky, blonde boy smirked down at the dark-haired girl. "What do you think, Leander? She looks like some nice fresh meat."
"Yeah, Rocket. She's too tiny to be here. And definitely too female." The taller blonde boy crossed his arms and looked down at the girl, whose green eyes were defiantly looking at him.
"I passed the tests, same as you both. I belong up here. And I'll prove it to you. I'm Psyche Hemlock, remember that name."
Both of the boys laughed, the stockier one actually responding. "Oh, we'll remember it, when we see it on the Iced list."
Leander shook his head. "Come on, Rocket. She amused us. Let's let her go for now. We can always get her later. Besides, we don't want some oomay launchmeat making us late for practice."
"Fine, fine, Leader. I still think you're going soft." Leander started to reply, but Rocket just shook his head. "Stow it, Leander. Let's go."
Psyche watched them as they left. Well, that was certainly not something she wanted to happen again.
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"Of course we do, Roger. They were ten cents at the store down the street that's closing. I want to see if I can do some stop-motion film, and really, I can't have a better subject. I know I have a Luke around here somewhere..."
"Have I told you lately, Mark, how crazy you are?" Roger shook his head ruefully.
Mark looked over the top of his projector, tossing a Jedi action figure towards the metal tabel. "Only about ten times a week, Roger. Now, help me set these things up."
"The things I do for my roommate...."
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"Swordplay, Alai, is a noble art. It teaches you to think on your feet, not only mentally, but physically." Ender grinned at his fellow launchie. "At least that's my understanding of it."
"That doesn't mean that it's useful here, Ender. We're being taught to..."
"We're being taught to fight, Alai. This is another method of it. So, are you game?" Ender raised his sword. "Duel. Until someone falls over."
Alai smiled ruefully. "And damned be he who first cries 'hold, enough!'," he quoted, bracing himself.
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"Well, I thought that it would be an interesting addition to everything else." Mark grinned up at Roger. "I mean, seriously. What else were you expecting?"
"Certainly not this." Roger gaped openly, not exactly sure if he really wanted to see the scene opening before his eyes. He never thought that he'd see Mark... and... just... no.
Mark beamed. "I'm going to wash up." He walked away from the table, leaving Roger to gape at the scene in front of him. A lop-sided cake graced the table, 'frosted' in whipped cream, with tiny bits of film on toothpicks decorating it. Only Mark.
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"Yeah, Rocket. She's too tiny to be here. And definitely too female." The taller blonde boy crossed his arms and looked down at the girl, whose green eyes were defiantly looking at him.
"I passed the tests, same as you both. I belong up here. And I'll prove it to you. I'm Psyche Hemlock, remember that name."
Both of the boys laughed, the stockier one actually responding. "Oh, we'll remember it, when we see it on the Iced list."
Leander shook his head. "Come on, Rocket. She amused us. Let's let her go for now. We can always get her later. Besides, we don't want some oomay launchmeat making us late for practice."
"Fine, fine, Leader. I still think you're going soft." Leander started to reply, but Rocket just shook his head. "Stow it, Leander. Let's go."
Psyche watched them as they left. Well, that was certainly not something she wanted to happen again.
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