(Untitled)

[says_say_what]

There's more than a few things Jetstorm hates, but today just seems to be full of them. The ladybug, flying through underground tunnels, ramming into things-in this case, said ladybug's web-and organic goop. He really hates that organic goop

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[littlestcooper]

Pity he didn't look in the third direction.

There are... calling them fruit trees would be too generous, as Lucy has just discovered, much to her dismay.

On the other hand: robot!

Sniffsniff. Smiiiiile.

"Hello," she says, quite cheerfully. ROBOT. Lucy is fond of those.

[says_say_what]

Alas, Texas is not full of really good fruit trees-at least, this particular part isn't. (What it's stocked up on is cedar.)

Jetstorm peers up-and remembers that hey, the ground is not his friend! Better to get off his aft and back up into the air where he belongs, so he can peer in a menacing fashion at Lucy.

"Say what?"

It's not that he misunderstood what she said; really. It's just that he's a pissed off, confused alien robot, and his favorite phrase is the first thing that springs to mind when confronted with...weird, squishy things.

[littlestcooper]

"Hello," she repeats, rolling her eyes.

It's not a difficult statement, really, Jetstorm.

On the other hand, the abstract current of his scent just reached her, and now she's brightening considerably. "You know Thrust!"

Beam. Friendly robot. (Well, to Thrust, anyways.)

[says_say_what]

That causes some optic squinting and even more glaring. "...Thrust. Pink motorcycle, quiet type, attracts glitched femmes like a magnet?"

He pauses again, steepling his claws and tapping them together a bit. "And how would you know anything like that anyway, squishy? Because either my sensors are failing me, or I'm detecting a hundred-percent mobile meat."