(Untitled)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Yesterday was a day of shooting- and, very briefly, shouting. Today, not so much. Ellen's got work to do outside to meet John-117's standards, and that takes a lot of time, a lot of effort, and a whole lot of sweating

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[pickyourmoments]

"Whatchya got here?" Chandler asks. "Model car?"

He might be joking.

[pickyourmoments]

Chandler shakes his head. "No, I don't think I know him."

It's probably a good thing, too.

"He like, a soldier or something?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"... kind of the opposite," Ellen says at last. "Like I said, he came here by mistake. I'm still sorry about that, he got the dickens scared out of him and we didn't talk for weeks afterwards because he was so upset about it all."

[pickyourmoments]

Eurgh.

"Well, hey. I'm still talking to ya!"

That counts for something, right?

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"That's definitely a good thing," Ellen says. "It's probably because nothing tried to eat you and nobody tried to shoot at you, but I'll take what I can get."

[pickyourmoments]

This whole subject is starting to seriously harsh his calm.

"Hey, you need any help here?"

That seems like a safe change of subject.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Sure," says Ellen, who knows when to stop talking about home. "Can you find the lower front leg parts? They're about yea long and bigger on one end than the other, with holes for bolts and springs on the small end."