Donald Van Loan, recently re-monikered Dr. Drakken ® (Disney Corp.), stumbled out of his newly notched Cavorite sphere ; gripped firmly onto one of the vertical support stanchions girding the docking berth, a healthy cyan flush slowly returning to his wan physiognomy. The attendant bay technician, a frazzled looking Siamese, ran wide, angled blue eyes over the dent in Drakken’s Alvin cum Cavorite sphere.
“Ojisan, who taught you flying?”
Still holding on to the strut as if it was as significant to his bearing as was his skeleton, he weakly wagged : “An English billiards master!”
He further confounded the catgirl’s nonplussed expression with : “Any carom you can walk away from...” He experimented with relying entirely upon his own inner framework by letting go of his external spine ; found that independent standing was possible ; began to explore the possibilities of mobility ; shambled unsteadily away from the perilous possibilities of space and towards the safer sanctuaries of station interiors.
By the time he staggered into Crystal Hiroshima’s bridge he almost looked his not-that-old cyan-self. Not enough so that Tanith Curtis didn’t notice : “Another hard landing?”
He flashed a weak variant of his usually enthusiastic grin. “Another soft crash.”
Tanith smirked; managed to make it pretty. “It’s a good thing that you choose to fly a submersible : I don’t think a Dodge Dart or a Chevy Cavalier could stand up to your...skills.”
He returned the smirk ; crossed back over into the preserve of one hundred percent Dr. Drakken ®. “Maybe a Mazda made of neutron-degenerate matter : got one kicking about?”
“Made of what?”
“Unobtanium.”
“That’s not even on the Periodic chart!”
He mimed wrenching a steering wheel around in classic Hollywood exaggerated fake driving motions. “Exactly! There’s nothing tough enough to survive my driving.”
Tanith gave blue skinned Mad tailor a solicitous stare. “Then you better hire a chauffeur before you really crash and I end up short an decent tailor, a passable environmental systems specialist & a fantastic friend.”
That candid consignment of concern cracked Drakken’s carapace of comedy. He considered his comrade with a seldom seen semblance of seriousness. A tear or two might even have been secreted by ducts located within ocular orbits.
“For a friend.” He wasn’t choked up...well not beyond the capacity of speech.
Curtis hugged him ; felt the emotional shift commencing through his body before Drakken’s forebrain was cognizant of it. She decoupled the clutch just in time to see the facial manifestations of synaptic epiphany.
“That’s the longest that I’m going to see you ever looking serious.”
“Absolutely!” The grin was back ; wider, a smidge, than before.
She returned the grin. She couldn’t help it : he was infectious.
“What are we grinning about?”
“There is someone.”
His breathiness sparked off a lambent glimmer in Tanith’s dark eyes.
“You’ve met someone.”
“ I’ve almost met her : a freelance courier, Ramona.”
“Well get out there and finish meeting her, idiot!”
Drakken looked taken aback at such an uncomplicated & plain plan ; then the grin resurfaced.
“Is that an order, my queen?”
“Think of it as an stipulated suggestion!”
“Your Majesty!” Being an essential being of melodrama, Drakken’s bow was somehow gracious & honest whilst still being full-on-Shatner-Stratford-style.
“From anyone else that would be of have been the single most brazenly insincere flourish ever perpetrated within the bounds of my august presence!” She almost managed to keep her face majestic & composed as she uttered this twaddle. Almost.
“ Get out of here, fool!” She said, fondly.
"What about our meeting?"
"This is more important!"
With a livelier step than when he arrived, Dr. Drakken ® withdrew.
“Ojisan, who taught you flying?”
Still holding on to the strut as if it was as significant to his bearing as was his skeleton, he weakly wagged : “An English billiards master!”
He further confounded the catgirl’s nonplussed expression with : “Any carom you can walk away from...” He experimented with relying entirely upon his own inner framework by letting go of his external spine ; found that independent standing was possible ; began to explore the possibilities of mobility ; shambled unsteadily away from the perilous possibilities of space and towards the safer sanctuaries of station interiors.
By the time he staggered into Crystal Hiroshima’s bridge he almost looked his not-that-old cyan-self. Not enough so that Tanith Curtis didn’t notice : “Another hard landing?”
He flashed a weak variant of his usually enthusiastic grin. “Another soft crash.”
Tanith smirked; managed to make it pretty. “It’s a good thing that you choose to fly a submersible : I don’t think a Dodge Dart or a Chevy Cavalier could stand up to your...skills.”
He returned the smirk ; crossed back over into the preserve of one hundred percent Dr. Drakken ®. “Maybe a Mazda made of neutron-degenerate matter : got one kicking about?”
“Made of what?”
“Unobtanium.”
“That’s not even on the Periodic chart!”
He mimed wrenching a steering wheel around in classic Hollywood exaggerated fake driving motions. “Exactly! There’s nothing tough enough to survive my driving.”
Tanith gave blue skinned Mad tailor a solicitous stare. “Then you better hire a chauffeur before you really crash and I end up short an decent tailor, a passable environmental systems specialist & a fantastic friend.”
That candid consignment of concern cracked Drakken’s carapace of comedy. He considered his comrade with a seldom seen semblance of seriousness. A tear or two might even have been secreted by ducts located within ocular orbits.
“For a friend.” He wasn’t choked up...well not beyond the capacity of speech.
Curtis hugged him ; felt the emotional shift commencing through his body before Drakken’s forebrain was cognizant of it. She decoupled the clutch just in time to see the facial manifestations of synaptic epiphany.
“That’s the longest that I’m going to see you ever looking serious.”
“Absolutely!” The grin was back ; wider, a smidge, than before.
She returned the grin. She couldn’t help it : he was infectious.
“What are we grinning about?”
“There is someone.”
His breathiness sparked off a lambent glimmer in Tanith’s dark eyes.
“You’ve met someone.”
“ I’ve almost met her : a freelance courier, Ramona.”
“Well get out there and finish meeting her, idiot!”
Drakken looked taken aback at such an uncomplicated & plain plan ; then the grin resurfaced.
“Is that an order, my queen?”
“Think of it as an stipulated suggestion!”
“Your Majesty!” Being an essential being of melodrama, Drakken’s bow was somehow gracious & honest whilst still being full-on-Shatner-Stratford-style.
“From anyone else that would be of have been the single most brazenly insincere flourish ever perpetrated within the bounds of my august presence!” She almost managed to keep her face majestic & composed as she uttered this twaddle. Almost.
“ Get out of here, fool!” She said, fondly.
"What about our meeting?"
"This is more important!"
With a livelier step than when he arrived, Dr. Drakken ® withdrew.