Just a snippet from a very enjoyable story, stripped of gender-specific terms:
..."I will hug you," they threatened, spreading their arms... -- RecklessPrudence
"It's impossible to swim through the Glunk and survive!"
Exhibit A, still dripping an pungent, unidentifiable goop, said, "Desperate times, all th' wards I could muster, an' some bluidy good air pockets, ye ken."
Rael, summoned to the scene, hadn't recognised her until she spoke. "Ambassador Shayde?"
She saluted him. But carefully, so that none of the glop adhering to her sprayed anywhere else in the emergency decon cordon surrounding the scene. "I know what yer thinkin'," she said. "Why, right?"
"Generally, yes. There were more curse words attached."
That earned laughter. "Well, there was this real persistent fella, ye ken. Chased me all over on sundry. Would'nae take 'fook off' fer an answer, ye ken."
"So instead of calling in Security..."
"They were reet busy wi' the cargo pirates. And this fooker had enough tae pay any fines on th' spot."
The beleagured Security trainee, assigned to record and log events for more experienced minds to sift, nodded. "Regretably accurate," they said.
"They got recordings at the other end," said Shayde.
Rael brought it up on his viewer. Shayde moving her hands around herself as she 'wove her wards'. And then playing up the melodrama as she 'dove to her death' rather than live with this particular example of manhood following her everywhere.
It was classic theatre. Designed to play to the dim and the unobservant alike. Then she dove in like she was rescuing an orphan, leaving the man to boggle down the hole after her. He did not, Rael noted, attempt to rescue her at all.
"I assume you're pressing charges?"
"Every charge I can press," said Shayde. "While doin' me own time in Solitary, ye ken."
Of course. So she could forcibly keep her distance.
"But first... I want tae hug him. While I'm like this."
Of course she did.
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