Patoolli fumbles forit, produceing the flakes for inspection and offering them to the Lab Procter. Eyes still glossy over the Electron Microscope.
Hey, to each his own.
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Patoolli fumbles forit, produceing the flakes for inspection and offering them to the Lab Procter. Eyes still glossy over the Electron Microscope.
Hey, to each his own.
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"They're... dirty...," Chris accuses the officers, taking the bag.
"You gotta clean them first."
He hands the bag back to Old Guy Who Smells Funny. "Seriously."
To Vince, he points towards a stainless steel table, with brushes, eye dropper bottles, and picks laid out.
Roll Wits + Subterfuge*
Over 3 successes
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2sux
Vince has the equipment in hand and is laying out brushes on a counter in record time. Maybe it seemed strange, but Lab Guy Chris knew what he was doing.
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Can we all make rolls?
If so, I fail anyway...
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"Clean them? But they're..." Inherently dirty, he didn't have the heart to finish. And the dirt might be important. But whatever. This is super-science, Frank doesn't need to understand it. He shrugs, "Alright," and takes them over to the table so he and Patolli can get to work. Those old bones might be arthritic, but they were still nimble, and he could probably make this go faster.
2 sux tops
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Chris gives Jessica the JoeyHowUDoin look as the menfolk do the dishes.
Well, except that the flakes disintegrate into powder as soon as they're handled.
This is retarded.
"I like a girl with handcuffs," Chris ventures.
Really retarded.
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Jessica shudders at his voice, but then the true meaning comes in her mind, terribly slow... and she screams: 'AAH, you freak, go play with your Nerd Herd pussy cats or something!' She almost pukes and begins to hyperventilate, but after a short moment she looks into the room, deeply embarrased with herself.
She blinks with her eyes and adds deadly serious: 'Tried them twice, but I prefer freedom ya know. And ... ' but then she sees Chris again 'Gross, I'm like three times your age dude!' Maybe that'll keep him off... but she knows nothing to make this hell good again.
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"Nyuk nyuk nyuk," Rizzo says sourly, wiping his hand across his face. Chalk it up to the early onset of senility. "Uh, we forgot how brittle these things are. Fortunately, we have more in lock up. Chris, is it?" he asks, interrupting Warren's dismissal of her suitor. "You ever been on a ride along? We need to go back to the office and get the others for examination. And cleaning them is obviously not an option," he tells him, pointing out the pile of ash they've become. "You can set in the back. With Warren," he offers, pimping out his partner's personal space without a second thought. The job is whatever the job needs to be and he didn't trust this guy to keep his mouth shut in their absence.
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Vince watches in horror as the flakes disintegrate. "Um, well, it's not like the molecules went any where. We still have the dust." Vince prays to the god of nerd that he did not just say something stupid.
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"It's all good, we'll turn the lights out..." Chris answers, then gapes at Frank. "Uh, no, I've got classes. I'm not going annnnnywheeeeeeere."
Frank can almost hear 'you crazy old fucker' at the end of that sentence.
Chris walks over to inspect the remains.
"Wow, you two sure fucked that up."
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