( He's quiet for a second. Contemplative. The trip to the trench killed all but one of its members; if that's what brought them here... nothing good ever came from ritualistic sacrifice. He's assuming that's what happened, and it really feels that way.
His fingers tap his cup to the rhythm of the lyrics of a song rather than the beat itself. )
Wellp.
( Declared mildly and abruptly. )
Guess we're going to the moon or the Mariana trench. Either way we're building a suit.
no subject
His fingers tap his cup to the rhythm of the lyrics of a song rather than the beat itself. )
Wellp.
( Declared mildly and abruptly. )
Guess we're going to the moon or the Mariana trench. Either way we're building a suit.