(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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[endlessdel]

"aLicE, i dON'T THinK THey wiLL fiT yOU." Delirium said staring confused at the small pile of clothes. Delirium wasn't even sure if that Alice would be able to fit his fingers in them let alone his whole entire body. "uNLEss yOU ARe tuRning inTO a smALL PinK WRiggLY GirL humAN ANd thEN THAT woULD eXPLain the squEALing."

[wormholed]

"You never know on this island," said Crichton, fitting the socks over his ears. "Hey! If this place ever snows like it's supposed to, I've already got earwarmers!"

[endlessdel]

"i wiSH it WOULD SNow, i dON'T LikE it out thERe and i hatE it iN HERe." Delirium said smiling at the socks over his ears. He would have to have ears more like the fluffy haired man for them to fit properly and Del thought the fluffy haired man might object to having his ears cut off. "i'M coOPED Up aNd i waNNA FLy anD not be SMothered by tHE KNAve Who diDN't steAL My tARTS But pUT thEM insidE of mE FOR a VeRY LONG pErioD of tiME."

Delirium put her hands on his shoulders as she lowered herself to the floor. She wasn't big but her sense of balance had certainly shifted with the weight and bump gain. "i thiNK BunSquiD mighT neED MORe thEN TWO LEG HoLes. DO YOu thiNK WE couLD SEW on EXTRA Legs for it?"

[wormholed]

"M'not much of a seamstress," said John, holding up his short, stumpy fingers. "Also, considering my wife, I'm pretty sure I'm sworn to bring any and all squids to a gruesome end."

His eyes flicked to her belly and back, betraying little of his unease. "Can't you have a nice, family friendly dolphin?"

[theunascended]

Daniel stared at the pile that Crichton was making. He ignored the fact that he was talking to himself, although a part of him was vaguely tempted to say hello to Scorpius, too, and just stared. Finally he shook his head and lifted an eyebrow at Crichton.

"Something you haven't told me?"

[wormholed]

"Yeah," said John, slipping the socks onto both hands. Well, to the first knuckle, anyway. He waggled them at Daniel and grinned. "I got really into dolls in the last week. Did you know there's over one hundred varieties of American Girl? I like their foray into historical, myself."

[theunascended]

"Dolls," Daniel repeated. "You know, you are many things, weird being among the most prominent, but I never pictured dolls." Although how he knew the fact about American Girl was anyone's guess. "And I'm pretty sure when I came down it sounded like a pig was being murdered. Which either means you're really enjoying this new obsession or..."

He left it open for Crichton to fill in the blank.

[wormholed]

"How do you know what a pig sounds like when it's being murdered?" John asked. He pulled the socks from his fingers. "Also, what kind of stonehearted bastard doesn't squeal over kitten onesies?"

[alas_yorick]

"Ha! Friend my ass," Yorick declared, looking smug for a moment as he came upon John and tiny socks. He didn't know who the fuck John was talking to, unless it was his unborn child because he was the one who'd gotten pregnant (considering the island, Yorick wouldn't have been very surprised).

[wormholed]

"What?" asked John, lowering the socks. He looked at them as though considering stuffing them under his ass until all need for concealing the evidence had passed. Of course, following that line of thought, he'd also have to throw himself on top of the clothes mountain like it was a live grenade.

"Since when is Marvin the Martian a deal breaker?"

[alas_yorick]

"Looney Toons? What are you talking about? I'm talking about those cute little baby booties you're holding, and how The Missus said she was researching pregnancy stuff for a friend. Face it, John, your wife is a lying liar," Yorick concluded with a grin, crouching down to pick up a bib. It said I only cry when ugly people hold me. "Aw shit, now I'll never get to hold it."

[wormholed]

John looked panicked for all of a second before he snorted out a laugh. "Me either," he said, turning the bib to read it.

He looked past the slanderous message to Yorick. There wasn't any reason not to trust him, not even for Crichton who'd been taken in more times than he knew to count. Yorick was a good kid, and John liked him, so he took a deep breath and let his shoulders fall.

"So do I shoot you now for calling the Missus a lying liar who lies, or ask you where my brilliant diversion went wrong?"

[savedthatjaffa]

That is not Mitchell.

He looked like Colonel Mitchell, but he didn't carry himself right and she highly doubted Mitchell would squeal like a fourteen year old catching sight of the latest heartthrob. Or talk to himself. Lam had come back down here to find a sweater (for the Compound's hideous air conditioning) and now she was leaning against the door frame watching the selection process.

"Kids on the brain?" she asked, voice dry. "The last time I was in here all it would give me was surgical scrubs."

[wormholed]

John tore his eyes from the socks and exhaled the breath he'd been reserving for another screech of delight. "Did they have kittens on them?" He beamed. "Because if not it likes me best."

[savedthatjaffa]

"One had turtles. Fat ones," Lam offered. "Another had puppies. The last few were solid colors, so I took those. No kittens, so I guess you're King of the Box."

It really was odd. Same eyes, almost the same hair, same build. But definitely not Mitchell. Lam wandered into the room and scooted herself up onto the large folding table that sat near the box. She could have the two of them lined up shoulder to shoulder, dressed the same right down to the boots, and she was almost certain she could pick the right one. That didn't make it any less eerie.

"I'm Doctor Lam," she offered after a moment. No lab coat, her stethoscope was elsewhere and her jeans were faded sea green, but she was still a doctor.

[wormholed]

"Oh, hey." John fished out a sheep-eared stocking cap and tossed it to her. "Might need some stretching."

He crawled forward on his knees far enough to extend a hand. "John Crichton. You new?"

[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."