#c;10

[icaqian-blog]

"I don't know what you think this ship is capable of, but it can't perform miracles."

“that’s probably because your ship is kind of ruddy,” the pirate sniffles, gazing at the circuitry and machinery with sad eyes. oh, how poorly managed this ship was. it was a good model–it didn’t deserve such neglect. all ships deserved to be pampered and modified to its utmost potential. “my balstoise, i’ve put so much love into them and they’ve performed miracles. you just need to believe in your ship!! and... to invest in a better mechanic.”

[icaqian-blog]

"Just because it's furry and cute, doesn't mean it isn't dangerous."

“just because it’s dangerous doesn’t mean we shouldn’t approach it,” qian responded, knowing full well how flawed her reasoning was. but she’ll claim her cerean blood to defend her logic--her cognitive processes were too complex for the human girl (she lacked an id bracelet, and although the pirate knew there were plenty of aliens with id-less wrists, it was still a good bet) to fathom. “it’ll be fine. probably. i bet you that they’re just shy! we can make friends with them. but just in case, you might want to have your weapon accessible. not drawn though, we don’t want to startle them.”

[icaqian-blog]

"We just wait here for a search party. We have enough rations for a week and there's just enough power to keep the temperature control systems functioning."

“i’m not waiting to be found by a navy search party,” qian scoffs, eyes narrowed into a slight glare. her hands fingered the outline of the compact pack of tools in her bag, but her instincts refrained her from attempting to pry the mechanics of the door open. (she wouldn’t turn her back against him, not even if he’d said she’s wanted alive.) “i’m more likely to survive the storm outside than to remain here with you.”

[icaqian-blog]

"Are you kidding? This thing bled acid. Who knows what it's gonna do when it's dead?"

“hm? what do you mean? if it’s dead then... it won’t be doing much, right?” qian questioned. spotting the large tail swing their way, qian grabbed the other girl by the forearm and dragged her down to a duck with an alarmed squeak. “please calm down, mister durgolosk! we just want to be friends. i’m qian! what’s your name?”

[icaqian-blog]

"Oh, you know, texting. It's what the kids do these days instead of going to dinosaur races."

“i don’t blame them. i’d text, too. it’s probably a lot more entertaining than watching old fossils like you run about.”

[icaqian-blog]

"They know everything. Every name, every record - they know how many... nose hairs you've got."

“i would refute the nose hair claim, but since i’ve been in the facility... they just might have counted,” qian says with a slight frown. however, hairs fell and new ones grew, they information would clearly be outdated. although, she wasn’t particularly worried anyway. what she knew was what the extent of what they knew--which unfortunately (or fortunately?), wasn’t much. their footsteps echoed as they continued down the museum hall, voices hushed slightly despite its deserted state. “do they keep tabs on loyal people like you, too?” 

[icaqian-blog]

"Does all this frighten you? Does it make you feel insecure?"

“well, i... yes... maybe a little, i mean.” the woman fidgets with the free edge of the red table cloth draped across her lap. “i mean, not frightened--but perhaps a tad insecure? standing next to you is intimidating, you know, since you’re.. well.. so... pretty.” 

[icaqian-blog]

"Nothin' to do but throw rocks at tin cans, and we gotta bring our own tin cans."

“i’m glad you’re here then,” qian exclaims, patting the taller boy on the back. “you’ll carry them in right? you’re a strong, big, human man-thing, so you got this! i’ll supervise. it’ll be fun, we can throw rocks at tin cans and eat stuff--oh, no seafood though. i think that might make ruski sad.”