From an objective standpoint, it would be very easy for Lydia to look put together. She has all the right elements going - her dress fits, her hair's pinned back neatly, and her accessories are on point. The elements are all there. It's just that there's something blatantly careless in the way she's piling her plate high with the stick that may or may not have belonged to a rocket pop at one point hanging out of her mouth.
"Eating food from aliens seems like a good way to get drugged," she comments, teeth bitten down hard into the artist formally known as her popsicle skewer. Y'know, like a real classy broad.
Tybalt does not look put together. His hair is just as charmingly tousled as on any other day, and he's in a t-shirt. There's people in suits here. It's possible he's underdressed, but if it's occurred to him, he doesn't look as though he knows it. He's standing like he thinks he's a model, curling near Lydia like maybe he'd lean on her shoulder if he wasn't about half a foot taller. He does move in to steal a cookie from the corner of her place. Because it's her, he's careful to not send the whole leaning tower of snacks tumbling.
He examines the stolen treat, flipping it over twice, then into his mouth, like he's testing out the theory. Unfortunately, he doesn't drop dead. "They're creatures of superior intelligence," he points out, mouth full, "wouldn't that be too obvious? It's like announcing they're here."
To the detriment of pretty much everyone else in the room, the frosting that Lydia swipes from the top of a cupcake and pops into her mouth (popsicle stick safely tucked between her last two fingers and her palm - and somehow not poking her in the eye) doesn't seem to fell her either.
"Cause the downed spacecraft didn't do that?" She arcs an unimpressed eyebrow while offering her plate forward in invitation. "Real big announcement." Her free hand gestures expansively at all of the general everything. "Not subtle. We got the reject aliens."
Feather-light fingers (not even the ones sticky from cookies) light at the back of Lydia's arm in thanks. He does not demur in any way, but selects the most non-alien things he can possibly find. It's cheese and crackers. You can't make cheese any weirder.
That done, he nods, pretending to think more than he is actually. "Which. Arguably. Good for us." He nibbles at his cracker, contemplative, "Easier to get out of an abduction if they don't just off us now."
Lydia shoves the rest of the cupcake into her face, finally taking a comprehensive glance at him.
Final verdict: "Terrible." She chews thoughtfully for another moment before unceremoniously shoving her plate into his hands already tugging at the ends of his hair. She means his idea of formal wear, not his hair - but she doesn't bother to clarify. Instead she sticks her popsicle stick behind one ear and reaches back into her own hair to undo a clip.
Then she's off again, plucking at the same curl as before and narrowing her eyes as she decides where she wants to pin it. "We endearing ourselves to the aliens and hoping for mercy or we formulating a counterattack?"
Tybalt’s peal of laughter is anything but offended, but he pulls an obligatory face. “I look nice.” He insists, rather in the way a toddler who picked their own clothing today also would. He doesn’t resist or duck away, used to her interference by now. And anyway, if it’s Lydia, it’s probably a cute pin. He does take the opportunity to continue eating her food.
“You and me? We’re gonna help them do it, and then mutiny right when we’ve earned their trust. Take their technology for our own, and profit.”
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peckenpaugh2019-10-26 11:01 am
SNACK BAR: Lydia & Tybalt
"Eating food from aliens seems like a good way to get drugged," she comments, teeth bitten down hard into the artist formally known as her popsicle skewer. Y'know, like a real classy broad.
SNACK BAR: Lydia & Tybalt
He examines the stolen treat, flipping it over twice, then into his mouth, like he's testing out the theory. Unfortunately, he doesn't drop dead. "They're creatures of superior intelligence," he points out, mouth full, "wouldn't that be too obvious? It's like announcing they're here."
SNACK BAR: Lydia & Tybalt
"Cause the downed spacecraft didn't do that?" She arcs an unimpressed eyebrow while offering her plate forward in invitation. "Real big announcement." Her free hand gestures expansively at all of the general everything. "Not subtle. We got the reject aliens."
SNACK BAR: Lydia & Tybalt
That done, he nods, pretending to think more than he is actually. "Which. Arguably. Good for us." He nibbles at his cracker, contemplative, "Easier to get out of an abduction if they don't just off us now."
SNACK BAR: Lydia & Tybalt
Final verdict: "Terrible." She chews thoughtfully for another moment before unceremoniously shoving her plate into his hands already tugging at the ends of his hair. She means his idea of formal wear, not his hair - but she doesn't bother to clarify. Instead she sticks her popsicle stick behind one ear and reaches back into her own hair to undo a clip.
Then she's off again, plucking at the same curl as before and narrowing her eyes as she decides where she wants to pin it. "We endearing ourselves to the aliens and hoping for mercy or we formulating a counterattack?"
SNACK BAR: Lydia & Tybalt
“You and me? We’re gonna help them do it, and then mutiny right when we’ve earned their trust. Take their technology for our own, and profit.”