Lasky swears for a full sentence, and because nobody's ever heard him swear even a little, they have no idea what to make of it. Palmer is either completely stunned or like 'Finally, I knew you had some swears in you.' Bonus points if the Sentence of Swearing is over something lame.
"As I was saying, Roland, there's no reason we can't-- motherfucker, that did not just break."
Thomas Lasky blows hot air through his nose as he stares down at his half-curled hand, fingers wrapped around the handle of a metal mug that was conspicuously mugless. On its side, spilling steaming hot black coffee, the tall, cylindrical mug rolls gently toward the edge of his desk.
"You're goddamn right it fucking broke, because fuck me if anything I do goes right!" Thomas snaps, throwing his hands up. "Now I have to clean it up. At least it's fucking steel, so it won't stain," he mutters.
Roland stands up somewhat straighter, folding his arms behind his back. He aims a questioning look at Commander Palmer, who looks back, slurping noisily from her own mug.
Neither she or Roland moves to help Thomas sop up the coffee. When he's finished, she sets her cup down, resting a hand on her hip.
"Geez, Lasky," Sarah says, deadpan, "you kiss me with that mouth? What the heck?"
Roland's avatar blips off, but not before Thomas catches him stifling a laugh. The speakers crackle ominously.
