Thwiff! Thwiff THWIFF thwiff Thwiff THWIFF!
Thwiff!
Purrfect Scrapper growled under her breath and swiped again. Thwiff!
"How have you managed to go this long on your own?" Terrence Knight wondered aloud from his relaxed slouch against the wall as he watched Sammy
flail ineffectually at the tiny hovering practice target a scant foot in front of her.
"Hey!"
"No, seriously," he continued. "That's...." He shrugged. "That's pretty pitiful, really. It's a -practice- target,
Sammy. It doesn't even fight back. It barely even dodges."
"But I do just fine out there! It's THESE stupid things--" and here Sammy took a frustrated swipe at the glimmering target ball, which
obligingly registered a hit for a change, "-- that I can't hit!"
"Don't forget that storm shaman."
"Well, yeah," she admitted grudgingly. "But it wasn't like he was hurting me, either. Once his hurricane wore off I shredded
him."
"Yeah, I saw." Terrence paused as a thought struck him. He pushed himself off the wall and clapped a comforting hand on Sammy's back.
"C'mon, kid, I have an idea."
"Uncle Terr!" Sammy's tail twitched in indignation. "I'm -not- a kid anymore!"
"(Be safer if you were,)" Terrence mumbled under his breath. Sammy frowned at him, but apparently hadn't quite caught what he'd said.
"So where are we going?" Sammy asked, falling into step beside him.
"You'll see," he answered with a grin.
-----\
"But... but... but..."
"You sound like a boat motor," Terrence put in helpfully. Sammy glowered at him through her newest acquisition, a pair of glasses custom-built
only a few minutes previously. The optometrist was good, Terrence had to admit. Not only had he not even batted an eye at Sammy's appearance, he'd
instantly suggested the combat-rated lenses and frames. "If the young miss can destroy these," he'd said with a smile, "I'll refund
double the price AND get her a new pair."
"But I don't NEED glasses!" she wailed.
"Not what the doctor said," Terrence replied.
"I'm not gonna wear 'em. I'll look stupid."
"Your choice." Terrence shrugged. "But I'm not gonna teach you anymore unless you can hit stuff."
Sammy was silent for the next few minutes, as they made their way back towards the base. Finally, she sighed. "Oh, fine. But I still don't like
'em."
"They look good on you."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Makes you look cute. Hides that trainwreck you call a face."
"Uncle Terr!"
Not quite how it happened, but close enough. After Terr suggested slotting Acc bonuses, I -had- to do it.![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
Thwiff!
Purrfect Scrapper growled under her breath and swiped again. Thwiff!
"How have you managed to go this long on your own?" Terrence Knight wondered aloud from his relaxed slouch against the wall as he watched Sammy
flail ineffectually at the tiny hovering practice target a scant foot in front of her.
"Hey!"
"No, seriously," he continued. "That's...." He shrugged. "That's pretty pitiful, really. It's a -practice- target,
Sammy. It doesn't even fight back. It barely even dodges."
"But I do just fine out there! It's THESE stupid things--" and here Sammy took a frustrated swipe at the glimmering target ball, which
obligingly registered a hit for a change, "-- that I can't hit!"
"Don't forget that storm shaman."
"Well, yeah," she admitted grudgingly. "But it wasn't like he was hurting me, either. Once his hurricane wore off I shredded
him."
"Yeah, I saw." Terrence paused as a thought struck him. He pushed himself off the wall and clapped a comforting hand on Sammy's back.
"C'mon, kid, I have an idea."
"Uncle Terr!" Sammy's tail twitched in indignation. "I'm -not- a kid anymore!"
"(Be safer if you were,)" Terrence mumbled under his breath. Sammy frowned at him, but apparently hadn't quite caught what he'd said.
"So where are we going?" Sammy asked, falling into step beside him.
"You'll see," he answered with a grin.
-----\
"But... but... but..."
"You sound like a boat motor," Terrence put in helpfully. Sammy glowered at him through her newest acquisition, a pair of glasses custom-built
only a few minutes previously. The optometrist was good, Terrence had to admit. Not only had he not even batted an eye at Sammy's appearance, he'd
instantly suggested the combat-rated lenses and frames. "If the young miss can destroy these," he'd said with a smile, "I'll refund
double the price AND get her a new pair."
"But I don't NEED glasses!" she wailed.
"Not what the doctor said," Terrence replied.
"I'm not gonna wear 'em. I'll look stupid."
"Your choice." Terrence shrugged. "But I'm not gonna teach you anymore unless you can hit stuff."
Sammy was silent for the next few minutes, as they made their way back towards the base. Finally, she sighed. "Oh, fine. But I still don't like
'em."
"They look good on you."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Makes you look cute. Hides that trainwreck you call a face."
"Uncle Terr!"
Not quite how it happened, but close enough. After Terr suggested slotting Acc bonuses, I -had- to do it.
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs