☮ 003 ((video))

[delincuente]

Who: Alex Russo and YOU
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Paisley
When: Evening of 6/22

[Alex is hanging out in the galley, her socked feet propped up on the table and a glass of soda in one hand, when she switches on the video feed. Her little boom box is sitting next to her, quietly playing another traditional Earth hymn to the god Bill Murray. Enjoy that, floots.]

So. Last night as a teenager.

[She takes a sip of soda, and pauses for a second, wondering if she's about to burp.

False alarm.] What kind of reckless, immature shenanigans should I get up to before the big 2-0 gets here?

[She turns up R. Kelly, and starts singing along as she waits for a reply. What a jammin' birthday.]

Comments

[stefanged]

[He fistbumps her with his free hand, careful not to jostle his tea.]

What, no one else on this ship appreciates him? [Knowing the Fleet, it's also entirely possible they'd never heard of it.] The second we get a kitchen upgrade, I'll bake some for sure.

Won't be as good as my sister's, but you know. "The thought that counts," and all that.

[delincuente]

Everyone on this ship's pretty much cool. But, like, no one else has an appreciation for bad Earth culture.

[What a total travesty.

Alex leans in conspiratorially.]

I tricked this one lady into thinking we worship Bill Murray on Earth. "Space Jam" is a sacred hymn now, just so you know.

[stefanged]

[Of all the hymns in the multiverse too... Stefan groans, trying to envision a religion centering around "Space Jam."

The worst part: he can totally see it. He can see it so well that it might actually exist somewhere.] You're kidding me.

How'd she take that, by the way? Learning about how sacred Bill Murray is, I mean?

[delincuente]

Pretty sure she knew I was lying.

[She has to laugh at herself, though. It was a fun joke.]

Didn't make it any less fun.

[stefanged]

[He's silent for a couple of seconds.]

Hm... Next time, you've gotta mention that the proper, sacred dance that goes along with it. We're just bad followers if all we know is the song.

[It was kinda funny, even if his inner spiritual care provider is groaning at the whole thing. Maybe he just... won't openly take part in it and let her do all the talking.]

[delincuente]

Oh man, yeah, I totally forgot to tell her about that part.

[She can tell that he doesn't totally approve, but she still laughs.]

Gotta brush up on it, myself.

[stefanged]

I don't remember most of it myself. Just how it ends. [He pauses, glancing around the room as if willing something to appear. When it's obvious that he can't find it, he sets his tea down and mimics, essentially, a slam dunk.

Stefan's not an athlete, but he's got the fluidity of someone who's practiced sports for - well, for over a century.] And if they don't believe it next time, that's like, a criminal offense. How have they heard of the Jam and not the slam dunk?

[delincuente]

[She applauds his slam dunk tremendously.]

I don't even know, man. Probably been living underneath a rock somewhere, reading off of stone tablets and eating possums. Or whatever they do in the South.

[stefanged]

We don't eat possums. [His memories are conflicting again - on one hand, he's tempted to agree with her. On the other, he remembers being born and raised in Virginia. That's practically the South.] Squirrel and chipmunks, maybe, if we're desperate.

That's more redneck territory, and that's kinda universal across rural America. [But he amends, more softly:] Though they're probably living under a rock or three.

[delincuente]

Oh my god, dude, you're from there?

[Embarrassed laughter, though she won't actually apologize.]

I'm from New York City, basically everywhere's the backwoods to me.

[stefanged]

[Oh, she's a New Yorker. That explains it. He's not happy about it, and may be rolling his eyes in response, but he gets it - of course they'd think people eat possums.

In a kind of exasperated tone:] I'm starting to see that.

But no, I'm... kind of from there. [How does he explain the "I have memories of two lives" thing without sounding like a nutcase?] I guess I call both Virginia and Jersey home, in a way.

[delincuente]

Now Jersey, I'm more familiar with. Geographically.

[She decides not to insult it directly. She's done enough of that to him in the past couple of minutes, oops.]

[stefanged]

[Probably for the best, really.] I'd kinda hope so.

I know we don't really teach US geography anymore, but I had a little faith in the system.

[delincuente]

I think I took that class? What I can't remember is if I ever showed up.

[stefanged]

Now that seems more likely than their curriculum suddenly turning weird. [It's also America, though: he's stopped asking questions about the public school system.]

But, right, birthday. What kind of other reckless, immature stuff have you been up to already?

[delincuente]

Practically nothing. I'm floating through space in a hunk of metal, with nothing to my name but a cassette tape and some crappy wine. Wish this could've come while we were in Space Vegas.

[stefanged]

[He gets the sentiment, even if Space Vegas isn't his ideal destination.] I'm pretty sure there's an IOU for these things.

You may not be able to reschedule a birthday but you sure could reschedule the parties.