002 - Looks like a discoball and tastes like strawberries and dreams

[wolfuncaged]

Who: Fenris and you!
Broadcast: Video: Fleetwide
Action: Tourist.
When: Today. SPONSOR DROP for all characters who have started a romance aboard the Fleet



[Fenris had a very unsettled night, sleep wasn't the cards after his run in with Cole. Eventually, he does leave his armory to find breakfast. He goes by way of the cargo hold (just to check the horrible little wretch isn't lurking there) but instead finds a gift basket with his name on. Fenris can't read the rest of what's on it, but the gift basket is full of condoms, lubes and other sundries that only naked people will really have use for. Emblazoned on everything is Madame Gertrude's Pleasure Barn. Not only has Fenris been given one, but any character who have decided to indulge in a little romance, up to and including flirting has been sent one. The Fleet has got itself a sponsor. For today, at least.

Fenris is well aware what these things are (thanks, Exisilium) so it's with a largely bemused expression that he turns on his communicator, pointing at the...gift. ]

Please tell me that I'm not the only one who has been given one of these today. I suppose Atroma expects us to be grateful? Though it is roughly as subtle as a brick to the face.

Comments

[catamite]

[oh yeah, other-world slang. this whole conversation makes perfect sense to him!]

Well, yeah... I mean some girls aren't into that, I guess.

...And most guys are just too lazy. But still. It's something you should at least think about.

[noctiphile]

I—[this isn't about salami.]—what... exactly are you talking about?

[catamite]

Well, you know-- you're in a hurry and you're not really thinking straight, so you just don't. Or you're really drunk.

Sometimes you just get lazy. And, I mean... I don't really need to, but I've had all my shots and stuff. So I'm safe.

[noctiphile]

[Shots, bad decisions, drunkenness.



Oh, goddess. Say it ain't so.]

... You're talking about sex.

[catamite]

[a blink.]

Well, yeah.

[noctiphile]

Don't say it like it's so obvious! It—[He chokes. Pauses. Takes a deep breath and groans.]—I was calling them sausages.

[catamite]

[he... is finally starting to catch on to what happened here...]

...You were talking about actual sausages??

[noctiphile]

Well, what else was I supposed to think? It's not—only women have them where I'm from!

[catamite]

[HE STOPS AND BLINKS]

...Your women have dicks??

[noctiphile]

What? No! They're female condoms. Meant to... you know. Fit.

[don't make him talk about this nel it's improper]

[catamite]

[but he's confused and he's supposed to know all about this kind of stuff.]

They, like... go in?

[noctiphile]

Deep in, yes.

[thank goddess this is voice and not video he is red as a tomato]

[catamite]

Whoa.

[dang, he's learning new things, and it's frankly a little scary]

Well, uh... these are way easier.

[noctiphile]

I can imagine. They're... very self-explanatory.

But, um. Tell me. Are the, uh, flavors really necessary?