Barry Ween (
badassprodigy) wrote2014-08-03 04:36 pm
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Not-So-Abandoned Warehouse: Sunday
Thanks to a robotic arm and hand with a laser pointer, Cheryls ocelot was now being properly entertained and less likely to attack visitors and Barry himself.
Not that Barry wasn't taking his eyes off the ocelot. He'd had enough scratches thank you very much.
And in between monitoring his experiments, Barry was cleaning up the spots where Boudou had marked her territory.
"Not enough fucking tufted ears in this world to make this fun."
[Open for SP]
Not that Barry wasn't taking his eyes off the ocelot. He'd had enough scratches thank you very much.
And in between monitoring his experiments, Barry was cleaning up the spots where Boudou had marked her territory.
"Not enough fucking tufted ears in this world to make this fun."
[Open for SP]
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Also she was starting to ... be curious about the limits of his expertise. And what exactly he could build.
She stopped when she saw the -- large cat? Small leopard?
"I didn't know you had a pet."
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It was a good sign that she could joke around about this, even if the jokes themselves wer elame.
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This was her attempting to be casual. She was just, you know, idly curious. For absolutely no reason whatsoever.
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She bit her lip, wondering exactly how much of this he was even buying. Probably not much.
"I need a sub," she said. "One that can go the whole way down, to the bottom of the ocean. I can pay you. I don't -- have much money, but I can give you what I have and ... and owe you the rest. I'll take another job, in town. I'll give back whatever salary you were talking about, for the Ethics Committee."
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"You don't have to pay me shit," Barry said, "Just as long as you tell me your not starting a fucking war or something."
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"Rescue mission," she said, softly. "I won't start a war unless that's what it takes, to get her out."
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"I think you have a longer story to tell me about this," he replied. "But yeah, sub, plane, fucking rocketship. Whatever. I can do that for you."
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Eight months had passed. Grace might well be dead, by now.
"But ... thank you."
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Yes. He's making a list, Eleanor.