Unfortunately no. I’m too busy to devote the amount of time I’d like to any potential pet I’d have, so I stick to bird feeders for the lizard crows of the city and donating to shelters.
[...some have accused Tarrlok of doing it for the good PR, and they’re right, but it’s nice to find a cause that looks good and that you kind of care about...]
And really, there’s no winning or losing here, is there? It’s not like having different preferences means we lose out.
[...he hopes.
Anyway, next question: pop, rock, or jazz. ...he’ll pick jazz because it actually exists back home.]
( A politician. Edgeworth makes a mental note of that for later. )
I can imagine.
( Edgeworth feels ambivalent towards all of the listed fruits, although truth be told, he'd not eaten many kiwis before. After a moment's hesitation, he selects 'strawberry'. The results of the second round flash onto the screen: 1/3. Somewhat drily, he remarks. )
( Without any further ado, Edgeworth readies himself for round three and whatever it might bring.
He's expecting it to up the ante, and he's not left disappointed, even if the options he has to choose from leave him rather flushed under the cravat. It would be foolhardy to believe that the other man is not paying close attention to him, so Edgeworth instead hopes that he doesn't think too poorly of him for his reaction.
The words are: paddles, handcuffs and sensory deprivation, and Edgeworth hastily chooses the first because frankly, the mere thought of being restricted in some sense is more unnerving than he'd care to admit to. )
They're only going to get worse from here, I fear.
[his brow actually kind of scrunches because he actually doesn't like any of those. like, he's not even being prudish they're all just not great in his mind.]
Given everything, I kind of expected this, but it's still pretty tacky.
[...ugh, he's going to settle on sensory deprivation.]
( The next words appear on the screen: men, women, both.
He hates this sort of question, having not thought about the subject in too much depth in the past (or, so he'd like to think, but he's not going to over-analyse this decision, so he simply selects 'both'. )
( He says it a bit stiffly because while he agrees, what they have endured has certainly been bad enough.
The animated love heart on the screen seems to have finally completed its calculations, playing a disappointed tone before breaking into two pieces and revealing their score: 45%.
The door suddenly slides open, but before they can make their escape a rogue tentacle sneaks in, intent on slapping them! )
Well, I suppose we lost. I can’t really say it means anything to me, though...
[...ugh, of course leaving this thing would go badly, wouldn’t it. Time to arrange some retribution in the form of whipping some water out of the pouch on his belt and using it to bind the tentacle with a water whip!]
Now, come on. Is this really any way to actually welcome visitors to your world?
( Everything happens so quickly that honestly, Edgeworth has no idea what he's looking at. The other man has pulled out some sort lightweight whip of his pocket? Where did he keep that thing? What is it made of?
Then again, he often asks himself the same questions of Franziska's riding crop.
He just sputters for a moment, not sure he wants to get involved. Then, he clears his throat. )
( You know what, Edgeworth isn't even going to ask any questions right now. Instead, he'll simply follow the older man hoping that he's correct in his assessment. )
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prismatica
no subject
[...some have accused Tarrlok of doing it for the good PR, and they’re right, but it’s nice to find a cause that looks good and that you kind of care about...]
And really, there’s no winning or losing here, is there? It’s not like having different preferences means we lose out.
[...he hopes.
Anyway, next question: pop, rock, or jazz. ...he’ll pick jazz because it actually exists back home.]
no subject
I'm certain that our many-limbed captors might find some way to make our day more miserable if we are not as compatible as they had hoped.
( He'd always been neutral towards octopi in general, but now he feels his sentiments sharply more negative. The tentacles are unnerving, he decides.
The next selection of words appears on the screen: touch, smell, sight. Edgeworth quickly picks 'sight' without much further ado. )
Did your work keep you busy back home?
no subject
...that's probably true, yes. I think that's still a narrow view of things on their part, though.
[... favorite flavor: strawberry kiwi, strawberry, blueberry... uh, strawberry, maybe?]
And yes, I'm in politics. You know how it is.
no subject
I can imagine.
( Edgeworth feels ambivalent towards all of the listed fruits, although truth be told, he'd not eaten many kiwis before. After a moment's hesitation, he selects 'strawberry'. The results of the second round flash onto the screen: 1/3. Somewhat drily, he remarks. )
Well, that's improvement, at least.
( And he can't help but ask: )
What do you mean by a 'narrow view'?
no subject
[after all, the fuck did his parents even have in common.]
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( Who is he to question how the minds of octopi work? He returns his attention to the screen in front of them. )
Are you ready for the final round?
no subject
[and, well, he’ll nod.]
I’m ready if you are.
no subject
He's expecting it to up the ante, and he's not left disappointed, even if the options he has to choose from leave him rather flushed under the cravat. It would be foolhardy to believe that the other man is not paying close attention to him, so Edgeworth instead hopes that he doesn't think too poorly of him for his reaction.
The words are: paddles, handcuffs and sensory deprivation, and Edgeworth hastily chooses the first because frankly, the mere thought of being restricted in some sense is more unnerving than he'd care to admit to. )
They're only going to get worse from here, I fear.
no subject
[his brow actually kind of scrunches because he actually doesn't like any of those. like, he's not even being prudish they're all just not great in his mind.]
Given everything, I kind of expected this, but it's still pretty tacky.
[...ugh, he's going to settle on sensory deprivation.]
no subject
( The next words appear on the screen: men, women, both.
He hates this sort of question, having not thought about the subject in too much depth in the past (or, so he'd like to think, but he's not going to over-analyse this decision, so he simply selects 'both'. )
no subject
[He doesn't actually have to think about this because it's very obviously a "both" on his end as well.]
no subject
( Edgeworth is disappointed but not surprised. They're almost done! )
Ready for the final question?
( Not that the booth is going to give them much choice in the matter. )
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[what manner of filth awaits them. He is definitely... stoked....]
no subject
missionary, doggy, 69.
This is... so basic. That's the only word for it. Who thought this would be entertaining?
He quickly selects 'missionary' and moves on... )
no subject
...I guess it could've been worse.
no subject
( He says it a bit stiffly because while he agrees, what they have endured has certainly been bad enough.
The animated love heart on the screen seems to have finally completed its calculations, playing a disappointed tone before breaking into two pieces and revealing their score: 45%.
The door suddenly slides open, but before they can make their escape a rogue tentacle sneaks in, intent on slapping them! )
no subject
[...ugh, of course leaving this thing would go badly, wouldn’t it. Time to arrange some retribution in the form of whipping some water out of the pouch on his belt and using it to bind the tentacle with a water whip!]
Now, come on. Is this really any way to actually welcome visitors to your world?
no subject
Then again, he often asks himself the same questions of Franziska's riding crop.
He just sputters for a moment, not sure he wants to get involved. Then, he clears his throat. )
Do you think we can leave now?
no subject
Yes, I believe we can. Let's get out of here, then.
[He tries to push the mascot aside in a way that is unlikely to cause harm but with an implied threat so they can just... get outta here.]
no subject
no subject
Right, let's make ourselves scarce, shall we?