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scubatankfilledwithfartsShe hadn’t been old enough to participate in the last war, to do anything about it [did she repress the flashes of that stark, nail-biting fear? The overwhelming smell of the laundry detergent of her mom’s blouse as she holds Fa tight to muffle her sobs? The dulled shriek of zakus destroying bases from the safety of the television?] and now she’s doing something about it.
“It’s bath night tonight.”
Even in space the entire crew of the Argama can hear Qum and Shinta scream—more like wail, flailing their little fists against the surface of the table. Fa sighs with all the weariness of a stand in parent.
Thankfully the majority of the crew are either sleeping or on shift, so it’s empty in the mess. No one can see them have a fit.
The usual cacophony of their arguments start: they’ll melt, they should test this on animals first, Captain Bright said they can’t—
“Wait, Shinta—is that blood?” Fa bolts from her chair, nearly lunging for the boy and the red mark on his forehead.
“This? No, it’s snack dust. Qum threw it at me!” The boy huffs.
“Cause you threw a carrot at me! Who does that?” The girl retorts just as huffily.
With another sigh, this time of relief, Fa flops back into her seat. “See? This is why. That’s nasty. Grown ups take baths or showers each and every day.”
Lieutenant Quattro chooses that convenient moment to stroll in, sunglasses forever perched on his face [there is not a rumor that someone has super glued them to him, Fa knows nothing about it and doesn’t partake in such nonsense. Obviously they’re some newtype tech], and upon seeing Fa with the children, and the looks on the kids faces, does not turn tail and retreat like a smart man.
“Even Lieutenant Quattro bathes every day!” Fa adds excitedly, gesturing.
The ace pilot has the decency, the grace, not to freeze in his spot at the mention of his bathing habits.
Just flashes that movie star (homicidal) smile.
“Maybe, but he doesn’t have anything else going on. What else is he gonna do?” Shinta has a very good point.
“SHINTA!” Fa shrieks in horror, her face hot beneath her hands where she’s placed them. Maybe if she covers her face and her eyes she can just float away.
Lieutenant Quattro’s laughter is kind of nice. Refreshing.
“That may be true,” he’s ready to debate, Fa can see that from the gaps between her fingers. “Currently things are pretty calm. But that doesn’t mean my hygiene is going to be neglected—it’s how I grew so tall and strong. You have to keep up with your body.”
Fa has hope. Her eyes sparkle—He did it! They’re going to—
“That’s lame! No one can smell you in space.” Shinta’s voice has taken on a pout, and Fa could just sink into the panels of the ship and right on into the stars. Can her face get any redder? He’s going to walk away, she just knows it.
That laughter again.
“You’re very perceptive. Do you know what that means?” The kids shake their heads after sharing a look.
Quattro knows how to hold a room even without those steely blue eyes.
“Take a bath and you’ll find out.”
With that chiming laugh and the groans of the children, the Lieutenant goes on his way, and Fa’s left to wrangle the children anyway.
“It’s bath night tonight.”
Even in space the entire crew of the Argama can hear Qum and Shinta scream—more like wail, flailing their little fists against the surface of the table. Fa sighs with all the weariness of a stand in parent.
Thankfully the majority of the crew are either sleeping or on shift, so it’s empty in the mess. No one can see them have a fit.
The usual cacophony of their arguments start: they’ll melt, they should test this on animals first, Captain Bright said they can’t—
“Wait, Shinta—is that blood?” Fa bolts from her chair, nearly lunging for the boy and the red mark on his forehead.
“This? No, it’s snack dust. Qum threw it at me!” The boy huffs.
“Cause you threw a carrot at me! Who does that?” The girl retorts just as huffily.
With another sigh, this time of relief, Fa flops back into her seat. “See? This is why. That’s nasty. Grown ups take baths or showers each and every day.”
Lieutenant Quattro chooses that convenient moment to stroll in, sunglasses forever perched on his face [there is not a rumor that someone has super glued them to him, Fa knows nothing about it and doesn’t partake in such nonsense. Obviously they’re some newtype tech], and upon seeing Fa with the children, and the looks on the kids faces, does not turn tail and retreat like a smart man.
“Even Lieutenant Quattro bathes every day!” Fa adds excitedly, gesturing.
The ace pilot has the decency, the grace, not to freeze in his spot at the mention of his bathing habits.
Just flashes that movie star (homicidal) smile.
“Maybe, but he doesn’t have anything else going on. What else is he gonna do?” Shinta has a very good point.
“SHINTA!” Fa shrieks in horror, her face hot beneath her hands where she’s placed them. Maybe if she covers her face and her eyes she can just float away.
Lieutenant Quattro’s laughter is kind of nice. Refreshing.
“That may be true,” he’s ready to debate, Fa can see that from the gaps between her fingers. “Currently things are pretty calm. But that doesn’t mean my hygiene is going to be neglected—it’s how I grew so tall and strong. You have to keep up with your body.”
Fa has hope. Her eyes sparkle—He did it! They’re going to—
“That’s lame! No one can smell you in space.” Shinta’s voice has taken on a pout, and Fa could just sink into the panels of the ship and right on into the stars. Can her face get any redder? He’s going to walk away, she just knows it.
That laughter again.
“You’re very perceptive. Do you know what that means?” The kids shake their heads after sharing a look.
Quattro knows how to hold a room even without those steely blue eyes.
“Take a bath and you’ll find out.”
With that chiming laugh and the groans of the children, the Lieutenant goes on his way, and Fa’s left to wrangle the children anyway.