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[ RE419S | TEXT | 001 ]

[ After the message (warning?) has blared two successive times, Rust waits about an hour and sends: ] Progress on locating unauthorized transport?

[ OOC: Threadjack to your heart's content! ]

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[There's a moment of silence, of some... mild humiliation. He's eaten crab outside of the tinned stuff maybe twice in his life, and they'd both been at holiday parties for the Institute. Martin tries not to let the self-conscious of his own poverty shine through as he replies.]

G-great! Yeah, that's awesome. Well, it'll be something new to try, right? Just have to be quick to catch them. And... and avoid the claws!

[ Lalo, who was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth -- a silver spoon funded by criminal activity, but a silver spoon nonetheless -- is unable to relate to the idea of anything material ever being out of reach for him. He notes the beat of silence, though, and can guess what it's about, and is about to not give a shit, carrying blithely on, when he remembers he's supposed to be a nice (gag) guy.

So instead of barreling right along, he pauses. Like he didn't mean to cause any self-consciousness. Well, that much is true, anyway. He really hadn't meant to; he just has to pretend to care about the fact that he did.

He clears his throat. When he speaks, he sounds apologetic. ]

No, I-- I mean, it's-- hey. Don't worry. My wife didn't know when I met her either. My family taught me to cook when I was young, so that's the only reason, I uh-- [ That part, for once not a lie! He did learn to cook young! He lets an apologetic silence hang in the air a minute or two longer before he continues. ]

Yeah! Yeah. Look out for the claws. Eeeugh.

Right. Well. I'll start heading north! Ish. Sort of north. Hopefully I'll run into you today. Or maybe tomorrow?

I'm not the smallest guy, so... hard to miss if I keep to the beach.

I'll be looking forward to it! See you soon! [ Added reluctantly, like he doesn't want to remind himself there's a chance they might not run into each other, but feels compelled to acknowledge the possibility anyway: ] I hope.

[ There's a pause. ] When you say "not the smallest guy..." ...how tall are we talking about here? Six-one? Six-two?

Edited 2023-05-19 14:51 (UTC)

Six-three.

[He's not sure why the specifics are important.]

I'm not... athletic or anything, though. Sorry?

[ idk man it just sounds like a cop kind of question to ask, just go with it. They always care way too much about your height and your race and what kind of gun you were concealed carrying without a permit.

Lalo laughs, warm, at Martin's admission to not being athletic. ]

Hey, hey. Don't talk about yourself like that. You shouldn't be sorry for being who you are. I'm sure there's a lot you can do to help us out.

[ Besides, he's athletic enough for everyone here, Lalo is pretty sure! ]

[Martin has his doubts, but he keeps them to himself. He forces a fluttery, nervous laugh in return.]

S-sure! I'll do my best. Over and out.

Over and out!

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