Description: "Dear Diary, Today Baron Pontmercy scored a goal against me in Air Hockey. Milton, the Baron's smaller cousin, has joined us courtesy of Angel. But in order to secure Milton's future with the rest of my friends, Angel gave me some weird homework to deal with. She also taught me that the pushy people in the Research Development department are Punk Bitches. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. - Kula"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." comes a throaty voice, raspy, but still feminine all the same. "I just got back to the Technodrome, and I've got a little bit of this and that to put to an end." Slight pause. "What? I just told you what I do; I try to kill four meddlesome turtles from my command center in Dimension X."
Turning the corner, there's Angel, cell phone to her ear as per usual. What isn't usual is her attire. Pants suit right up there with the A.D.As on Law & Order. Heels, everything, short hair up into pigtails, her manner of walk even an act in its determinedness. It's quite a sight for anyone who actually knows the girl, that's for certain.
"... Ooop, evil talking brains staring at me funny, gotta go. Bye." ... "Yes, I do. YES. BYYYYYE." Another pause. "Don't call me muffin, froodlycakes."
Click. Well, if cellphones clicked there'd be a click. It's one of those flip tops, so it's more like a snap. After she manages to hide away her phone in her secret hiding place - wherever that is - there's this air of pretend that seems to lift when the silver haired devil emits a sigh of relief. She flops down on one of the couches in the absolute epitome of slouch, letting out a gaping yawn from her maw. She even scratches her cheek as she looks around, and seems to spy something specific. Shifty looks come from her like a kid who's about to stick his hand in the cookie jar, she kicks one of her high-heels off, and across the room - toward some barely decorative urn they have sitting around the break room - before cursing. "Curses."
A moment later, she looks around again. No one's watching, still. Maybe she can get it inside the urn, this time. She reels back her other leg, and, wham, with a bit more finesse this time, she kicks her other high-heel across the room.
Ah, yes, the nifty NESTS recreation area. A retreat from the rest of the super ultra secret mostly metal rest of the base for employees to enjoy when they're not busy in the labs, training, being briefed for missions, getting geared up for battles, or groveling before the throne of Igniz. The metal doors of one of the many lifts slide open with a hydraulic hiss, making way for the young deadly weapon to shuffle out.
She looks just a little groggy, like she hasn't been up for long, shoulders slouched just a bit. Slung over her left shoulder is her dark violet leather jacket, her torso covered by a protective black, form fitting body suit that leaves her arms completely bare. Tucked under her right arm is a plush penguin of three feet in length - blue and white, but for his orange feet and beak. Not in the middle of training combat or trying to savagely brutalize some poor target, her hair is its natural red-brown shade. Extremely long, unrestrained by ribbons or hair pieces, the locks resting against her shoulders don't quite conceal the somewhat ugly bruise on her right shoulder. It was a rough night for the teenaged death machine.
Said teenaged death machine heads straight away for one of the Air Hockey tables. With utmost care, she balances the stuffed penguin on the edge of the table - just over one side's goal. Then she slips around to the opposite side of the table, fishing the puck out from the pocket in the table's side and placing it on the surface.
"All right, Baron Pontmercy," the girl remarks with a very grave tone as she drops her twenty-thousand dollar armored leather jacket on the floor at her feet uncerimoniously. Her hands now freed, Kula takes hold of one of the Air Hockey paddles. "Do your best!" she chirps toward the stuffed animal.
As unrelated as one thing can be to another, it's sort of a funny joke of life how the most seperate of things can seemingly always connect in the most tertiary of manners like in a Johnny Gossamer novel. On the balcony above, that de-footed high-heel shoe soars through the air with power, and speed. The power of speed. There's quite a bit of spin on it when it - THUNK - clangs into that decorative urn. It twaddles around the rim of the thing for as long as it would take a basketball player to chant 'go in, go in!' and worry about his career before it finally fall in with a sound that is not unlike a thunk, though it might all be a frachink.
It is at this point that the shoe does not come to its much desired less than chaotic rest. No no. It is an unfortunate fact that the length of time it takes to make an NBA baller question his existence as a inflated rubber sphere throwing queen is also the same exact time it takes to upset the base of an decorative earn.
When the shoe goes in, off goes the urn. Falling off the edge of the balcony above, and slamming into a cart of discarded trays a food services worker left laying around NESTS' rec-room all willy nilly-like. In a manner that exudes the lovely aroma of rube goldbergianness, that tray angles through the air ackwardly to then knock a lamp over, which takes its chance to have revenge on one Mr. Baron Pontmercy directly in the back. There is a pending lawsuit between a one B. Pontmercy vs. Senior Lamp, you see, because the lamp's son, a young Mag Light, was once caught up in an battery smuggling deal involving Mr. Pontemercy's Wiimote. There is also a one Ms. Diamond mentioned in the lawsuit, and there are rumors which say she convinced the Baron to take the blame so she can get off scott free. A patsy you are, Mr. Penguin.
Indeed, it's as if the stuffed animal said to Kula, I will not be a party to your law breaking battery stealing schnanagans anymore, and teamed up with the lamp. In all his glory, the penguin falls over forward in a summersault, knocking his air-hockey paddle forward across the table while also managing to land on his butt, which in turn TAPS into the hockey puck that was placed carefully on the table JUST ENOUGH that the puck CLINKS into Kula's goal and, yes friends, the stuffed animal SCORES against Kula. You could swear that the inanimate object that is the penguin made of stuffing and awesome just winked the sparkley wink of victory and ...
"AWESOME!! THAT WAS AWESOME!!!" comes Angel from the balcony up above.
By 'Do your best', she certainly hadn't meant to indicate he should /score/. But alas, it seems it's time for stuffed animal vengeance. The sound of the urn striking the tray catches Kula's attention, the girl glancing to the side to notice the projectile platter flipping through the air... toward the lamp. Violet eyes blink toward the lamp as it goes toppling over toward the lamp. The impact provokes a slight wince and then a gasp of surprise as the good Baron Pontmercy goes flipping forward, his bright orange foot sending the otherwise inert paddle sliding across the table.
The final impact is just a nudge, all of the potential energy of that string of unlikely events having run its course, leaving JUST enough to finish the job. The puck is tapped, slipping nerve-rackingly slowly over the final few inches... Kula glances down just in time to see it - to realize the penguin's nefarious ploy - and quickly scoots her paddle over to stop it only to have it woosh by a split second too late.
The plastic rattle of the puck can be heard as it rolls out to the retrieval bin on the side of the table and Kula looks toward her stuffed companion, expression so very serious, left hand coming up to rest at her hip, "Good play. You've gotten a lot better." she observes, only to have her attention drawn up by Angel's shout from the balcony, noticing her there for the first time. A hesitant, childlike smile crossing her features. "It was a nice shot," she acknowledges.
Taking a step around the table, Kula grabs the penguin from his spot, "Though sitting in the field of play is interference, I'm going to let it slide this time." she chides the stuffed animal, tucking him back under her arm as she completes her journey over to 'his side' and slides one of the little red score beads from left to right. Point for Baron Pontmercy! She pats him on his plushie head as congratulations. "Hello Angel," the girl then continues, looking back up to the unusually snappily dressed NESTS agent. "Were you out saving the world again today?"
Angel, for her part, barrels down the steps, hopping the last three using the safety-railing to hoist herself up for a moment. She begins to figure things out in her normal rubix cube-like manner. Picking up the lamp, the tray, and the main offender, the urn, she begins to replay things in her mind like a crime scene investigator, before snapping her fingers, "The odds against this happening have to be like..." ... short pause ... "... a really big number."
She snaps a finger, though still connecting the dots of the scene of crime with her finger, "Howdy, Smurfette... and tell Mr. Baron I'm still not talking to him." She raises her nose in the air, and make a mock indignant *hrmph*, "I'm still cross with him for beating me in chess, you know." Stocking clad feet toe the floor a bit as she actually has to think about it for a moment. "You get extra credit if 'saving the world' was you trying to impress me with your wittyness. Witification."
Everything is always a mile a minute with Angel. Wait, was she asking the silver haired mexican about her dress? "Oh, yes." She ahems, standing up straight and fixing her slouchy top. "I'm Venture Capitalist Ms. Elohim Legna, and I was just on a dinner date with the CEO of Venture Diagnostics, Peter M. Crumhb. My interests are stamp collecting and waterspots, and I made millions for funding the "global conscience," a machine that measures the platectonic shifts in the Earth by way of.... boringness." She raises a leg, and wiggles her foot in the air, "Anyway, hombre picked his toes during dinner, Chilly Willy. PICKED them. And then started talking about his egg collection. I swear, what manner of asshattery is that? I mean, who the hell collects /eggs/? How is that fun? They're all faberge, too, so you can't eat 'em, so what else do you do with them? Do you roll them downhill?" ... "At least you can mail stuff with stamps. But that was part of the set up, anyway, 'we have a social bond over our really lame hobby our friends make fun of us over.'" She looks comically exasperated for a moment, "And don't get me started with his social retardedness. You'd think a CEO of a company would be all over a chica as a hot as this." There's a pause here to motion at herself. "But nooooooo, he's all pecky kissy, holding hands. I'd swear he was gay, but seriously." She motions to herself again, and adds a hip turn for good measure. "Even if it's a little cute, he needs to do something. Somethingify, guy." She shakes a fist, "Somethingify it up."
The animated mexican turns back to look at Kula again, "He's about to spill the beans on his flibbity dibbery dingley dangley flibbitflocks or whatever it is, though, I'm 99% sure of it. R&D is really being a bunch of whiney little bitches about it, though. Waaaah, not fast enough. When finessing this kind of situation takes time and delicate strategy. Foolish mortals."
She had to have the term Smurfette explained to her before, having never watched cartoons or picked up on the phenomenon that was Smurfs. It involved lots of video clips, going over the names of the Smurfs, and repeated assurance that no, they weren't just really really cold. They're always blue. With that background in mind, and remembering well the pretty girl Smurf with the nice white dress and lovely blonde hair, Kula reacts to the nickname with a beaming smile.
Holding the penguin up in front of her, his beaked face turned toward her own, she notes quite gravely, "Angel isn't talking to you still. It sounds like it's still about the chess game." That message passed along as requested, Kula tucks him back under her right arm, eyes focusing back on Angel... before... becoming... very confused. "Witification..."
But only gets worse from there as Angel continues, words and references flying over the clone's head every which way. Platectonic... Asshattery... Faberge... flibbity... what?! "That's a pretty name. Elohim," Kula responds, grasping, perhaps, at the one piece of that entire story she managed to follow clearly. "Rolling eggs sounds like fun! Did you get to do that with him?" she asks, her bare hand coming up, finger resting just over her top lip. As Angel motions to herself Kula nods appreciatively, "You look very pretty in that. Can I get clothes like that too?"
At the mention of R&D, Kula's face scrunches up as if having brought up something unpleasant. "They're always very pushy there. Tell me to do this, take that test, eat some pill, chill their water..." She sighs a little, shifting the penguin into a position such that the good Baron being hugged in front of her, facing Angel, his chess nemesis, directly now. "I'm not surprised they bug Angel too. No patience."
She was more venting than anything, but Angel does pick up on the fact that Kula asks her about the name. Her explosive stance softens up for a moment, as she looks down at the teenager of only three years, "Oh, yeah, that. It's hebrew! Expresses concepts of divinity. It's not that I meant to be prosaic or anything, but I was trying to figure out something to go with the Legna part, really, and Angelo would've just be absurd."
"Man, I wish. That would actually be fun." On the eggs! "Those things are something like a million billion dollars, I mean, seriously, they're what, tacky lookign things with jewels or something? I don't know. Stamps are cooler." She blinks a little at the clothing thing, "Yes! Maybe? Sometime. Yes. Probably. Uh." Pause. "Only if you're good." Another pause, more than a beat. "And eat your peas." Third pause, as-if unsure, "Or whatever vegetable you hate."
The silver haired girl then snaps a finger, pointing toward Kula, "Oh yeah, I have a thing for you. It's a thingy thing." She starts patting her pockets, looking at the one in her vest, and then the skirt, then reaches into her top a bit, "Where is it? Damnit."
"Yeah, like I said, whiny bitches, who bitchy whine-illy. If they were so smart they wouldn't have to resort to industrial espionage, anyway." It's like she needs to think it over for a moment before deciding, "Punk bitches, really. More than whiney. That rolls around a bit better, punk bitch." She nods, affirmatively, like some kind of delicate linguistics just happened there, before she pulls out something just as Kula probably thought she got away with it:
"Also, pick up your coat. Do you know how long it takes for Ms. Fernandez to iron it? We like Ms. Fernandez, she's good people."
Angel goes on to explain Elohim and Kula's smile widens some. "I like it," she remarks, coupling some of the NESTS agent's explanation with her understanding of world cultures and geography. She IS taught a lot, after all, being stuck in the base nearly twenty-four seven. On the matter eggs Kula's eyes widen with some appreciation for the money at stake. "But they don't even taste good?" she asks, sounding completely confused as to how anyone would spend that kind of money on eggs they couldn't even turn into yummy omelets?
As to the rules regarding her getting a similar outfit, Kula sulks, shoulders slouching just a little, mouth curling into a faint frown. "Broccoli." she mutters quietly, sharing with Angel her secretly dreaded vegetable. But the moment of sulking sulkiness ends quickly as Angel admits to having brought something. Violet eyes shift back to focus on the silvery haired young woman, arms squeezing Baron Pontmercy even tighter as she rises up on her toes, "Oh? Oh?"
Angel goes on to discuss the whitecoats over in R&D and Kula laughs, "Yeah. Punk bitches sounds better. That's what they are." she affirms with a certain nod of her head. At that point the reminder comes to not leave her coat where she dropped it on the floor over by the table and Kula glances over her shoulder, then back toward Angel, then back toward the coat, on the floor, as if torn between compliance or making the NESTS operative show her what it is she brought her first!
Perhaps deciding that in the end she doesn't have a lot of choice, Kula slips back over to the table and picks her coat up off the floor. Tucking the stuffed companion under her arm, she dusts the garment off before draping it over her shoulders and zipping back over to Angel, "Ms. Fernandez /is/ pretty nice," she agrees, her voice quiet for a moment before she perks up again, "What did you bring? What did you bring?"
"You can't even /eat/ them, they're for decoration! They have jewels and stuff on them." the mexican shrugs her shoulders, and make a bit of a mock scoff, "Yet another reason stamps are better than Fabby Eggs - at least you can lick the back of 'em." She looks to Kula, after she asks about what she has, "Wellllll... the thingy thing.."
She goes on another reaching session. Here, there, where, then, bam, she has it. She found it, all before it got too obscene, too. "Aha!" From her top she produces a keychain - a penguin keychain, might we add - that matches up with her friend's stuffed compatriot, "I found him, he was abandoned on some guy's desk with no friends, abused by evil, heartless keys to houses and boats in the most cruelest fashion possible. It was a horrible sight, let me tell you. I can't even describe them, the horrors. You do not know what the SUV Remote did to him, Milton is his name, poor thing. Poor Milton." She makes a bit of a pout, and wiggles the keychain infront of her eyes, "Isn't that right, Milton?"
"So I was wondering if you wanted to adopt him?" she asserts, almost dangling the keychain over the shorter girl's head like a prize just out of reach, "I'll even give him to you now, but, like if you want the adoption procedure to be all full and completed, I have a small homework assignment for you to do."
Oh? Oh? Homework is usually bad, but at least Angel's homework is never like what the R&D people ask of Kula, right? "So, what do you say, Ms. Diamond? Do you accept this mission? To save this poor little guy from a life of being lost within the evil recesses my clothing? Do you think you are a bad enough dude to save the president?"
"Decoration? How boring," Kula replies regarding the collectors item eggs. It sounds like a very uninteresting thing to go out of one's way for! A long last, after much anticipation, Angel displays the promised item she brought for Kula and the young walking science project's eyes widen at the adorable penguin figurine.
"Poor Milton..." she repeats back as Angel describes the travails he has had to endure in his harsh life as a member of some keychain. "Those meanie keys," she adds, consolingly, raising her hand in an attempt to grasp a hold of the small penguin just before Angel lifts it out of reach. It will match perfectly with the plush penguine tucked lovingly under her arm at the moment: the honorable, master of all games, Baron Pontmercy. But right now he's too high!!
Angel asks if Kula wants to adopt him. He could join her collection of other stuffed animals and random figurines and characters she's collected over her not so lengthy lifetime. As if there was any question, she starts to nod eagerly, right up until the silver haired operative mentions the catch to make the adoption all /official like/, and Kula pauses.
"Homework?" she asks, sounding uncertain at first. Homework is usually boring. But... when it comes from Angel, it's nothing like what the labcoated scientists are always asking her to do. They're always wanting to test the girl. How fast can she run. How high can she jump. How quickly can she help them fix up a new batch of snow cones... Those labrats! She hesitates for a moment, "Well, I don't know about the president, but I can save Milton," she finally decides, holding up her hand, palm up, waiting expectantly. "What do I have to do? To make Milton's adoption official?" she asks, curiosity her primary emotion now.
"You have to take this seriously." the devilish girl notes with a certain.. certainty, nodding her head as Kula agrees. It's almost odd, really, to see Angel talk like _anything_ is important. "It's not going to be easy, but I'm sure you can do it." She waits for a moment for that to sink in, before she looks down at Kula, very seriously, like the world depended on this homework. Like this stuff is an emergency so dire that lives depend on it, or worse! "If you fail, you cannot adopt Milton. And his loss will be... on your head."
The last bit is almost spooky. Ominous tone be damned, the mexican girl finally ahems into her fist, clearing her throat in a sure sign that she's about to rattle off something long winded and overly worded. "First and foremost: You need to tell me which single Power Ranger wore all of the following colors in his long tenure as a hero of justice: Green, White, Red, Red Again, and Black. Okay? Got that one? Good, now.."
She goes on, rattling off these things Kula needs to find out for her, like each is just as important as the last, "You need to find out what the word 'TARDIS' stands for, and what's so important about its inside. Then, Rapper's Delight or Funky Cold Medina, and why?"
There's more though. How could there be more?
Now, finally, and this is just as important as all of the rest of these, but you need to tell me which John Hughes movie is superior: The Breakfast Club or Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and why."
She folds her arms now, but in a manner that offers out the keychain to Kula, her tone shifting to that natural matter of fact way she normally talks, "I'll accept the answers orally, so you do not have to write everything down. However, Ms. Legna encourages heavy note taking, and, for extra credit, if you can prove to me that video killed the radio star I might take you out for ice cream."
Angel says she has to take this very seriously and Kula shapes up immediately, straightening her back, squaring her shoulders, her expression quite somber as she tries to take on the most no-nonsense air possible for a fifteen year old girl hugging a blue and white stuffed penguin. Which is to say... it could some work, but she's doing what she can!
"I won't let that happen to him," she assures the silver-haired Mexican, swallowing a little as Angel tacks on even more emphasis. And then comes the list. A Power Ranger. Wore different colors. The pattern indicated by Angel. Kula will have to find out what Power Rangers are. And then investigate this color business. She nods slowly as Angel asks if she's got that part.
The word TARDIS, and explaining what's inside it. Interesting. Rapper's Delight or Funky Cold Medina? She hopes those are tasty desserts. That seems like what a delight would be, right? Breckfast Club or Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It sounds like she has some movie viewing in her future, as neither title rings a bell with the all too sheltered science project. Not intimidated by the length of the list, Kula nods sharply. "I will find out!" she assures, hand reaching out out to take hold of the keychain penguin, drawing it back, and craddling it in her palm as violet eyes lower to examine this new found friend intently.
She glances up as 'Ms. Legna' adds on an extra credit assignment with /ice cream/ on the line. "Oooo... Video killing the radio star. Okay." the long haired teen acknowledges. "It's okay if I take Milton with me to do this homework, right?" She glances down at the stuffed penguin now under her arm again, "I don't think Baron Pontmercy will mind."
Angel, in turn, props her arms behind her head as Kula inquires if she can take Milton with her for homework or not, and she shrugs, "I don't care, no problem with me." But then she looks down to Kula and waves a finger to put a point on things, "Remember, serious business!"
The last one is almost impossible to figure out, but in the end, she's more curious to see what Kula actually comes up with that one than looking for a true answer to it. Some of it is before Kula's time in faked years, though Power Rangers is something she would've grown up with and would look weird not at least knowing about it. Note to self: Remember to work in something about Avatar in the future. And My Little Ponies seem to be making a comeback, too.
A couple thoughtful hmms come, and then interestingly enough, the following question, "Okay, so who did they send you out to beat up last night?"
It's more of a random question than anything, really. It's not that she looked at the logs, looked it up, or even used the scuffs on Kula's jacket to indicate anything. It's likely that they had the girl doing something untoward last night, because that's what NESTS does.
"Right," Kula acknowledges the reminder about serious business, looking quite solemn about the responsibility placed on her. She doesn't quite get the nature of the homework. But she doesn't understand most of the tests the R&D department runs her through either. To say that her trust is rather easy to come by would be putting it mildly. If Angel says it's /serious business/, then for all intents and purposes it is, as far as Kula is concerned.
"Oh..." the ice princess replies as Angel asks about her adventures of the night before. She ignores, for the moment, the bruise on her shoulder where a bit of park bench struck her cleanly. "His name is Maxima. But I like to call him toy man because he has all kinds of gadgets on him. Gifts from NESTS, I'm sure. Missles and such." She waves her hand, closing it over Milton to keep him from falling to the floor. "He was strong but I was more powerful," she states matter of factly.
She falls quiet then, though the way she fidgets makes it clear that there was more to the encounter than just taking out the rogue NESTS experiment in cybernetics. Slowly she slips Milton over into her left hand then brings her right hand up to rub at her bruised shoulder absently, "I also saw him there too." There's a special weight on the way she says 'him'.
"The one called K'. The guy with the red glove that keeps the fire in. Kind of." The smaller agent sighs a little, "I was really tired by then though, so I left." She lowers her right arm from off her shoulder. "I'll do better next time." she insists, looking back up at Angel. "The toy man had a lot of things to say. A lot of lies. But they didn't get to me. I knew he would do something like that. I'm sure others will try too."
"Toy man, hmmm? Toy man, _Toy_-man. Toy-_Maaaaan_." It's almost as if she's rolling around the words around in her mouth like a wine taster might taste wine. At least she doesn't spit? "I kinda like it, tastes good. Not all stringy. I hate when words taste all stringy, you know? You're making up your own nicknames- that's pretty clever, really. Good on you, Chilly Willy. 4 out of 5." she compliments, then she oh-ho-ho-hos, "But yeah, Maxima? I know 'im. Not met him direct-like, but I've seen him before." You'd think she'd have to, working for NESTS for as long as she has now. But the thought of it, Kula beating on someone so...
She tries to hold back laughter, she really does, "That had to be hilarious, dude's built in the shape of a refrigerator. I'd like 'ta've seen tiny 'ole you flail him around a bit. Give him a run for his money, didja?" She taps her fingers together, though, "He's not a bad guy, per-say, but when you cross upper management ya' gotta know you're gonna get it pretty hardcore."
"Just don't ever trust what one single person tells you about anything, Smurfette. Find out for yourself, that's the only way you'll know anything for sure." At first it might sound like she's telling her not to believe Maxima's 'lies,' but at the same time, there's a bit more to it than that.
"Like, did you know you can drink your own urine? It's sterile, to you. You can survive off of your own pee for a few days if you don't have any water. It'll stave off dehydration." That can't be true, can it? You gotta think that's pretty eww. A challenging look comes from the mexican, and then, finally, she puts her index fingers up to her brow and wiggles devil horns at Kula, "Don't believe me? Find out for yourself." As some cleaning staff pass through to clean up the rec-room, they assuredly give Angel a weird look, "... and, uh, by that I mean look it up on the internet."
The smaller of the duo is quiet as Angel contemplates her nickname for Maxima. Analysising it, testing it, tasting it even. The girl looks pensive then, as if maybe she did something wrong, only to smile with relief as Angel appears to approve it in the end. It isn't the most creative name by any means, but it is a nickname all the same. Of course, she picks up a new one on the spot. Chilly Willy. It's... hard to argue with.
"I think I did have a bit of advantage at first. He didn't take me seriously." the girl states, sounding a little apologetic. "But even still, I'm stronger than he is." A simple statement of fact. That isn't to say he didn't get his hits in. And she felt his strength. "Not, like... you know... in my arms or anything. It's the ice." She nods a little about him not being a bad guy. Kula had no opinion of him... and he wasn't insulting or even angry about her attempt on his well being. But when one crosses NESTS, there's consequences to be suffered. The higher ups make sure of that and Kula is their tool to guarentee it. And of course she's been raised all of her few short years to not mind that in the slightest.
Angel advises her to never trust the word of one person about anything and Kula's brow furrows just a little, about to interject with a 'Not even you, Angel?' But Angel leaves no room for the question as she continues into the rather... distressing assertion. The girl makes an 'ick' face almost immediately, drawing back a little, looking uncomfortable. And then come the devil horns and Kula's smile returns. That gesture always makes her laugh, and this time is no different, the penguin hugging girl giggling lightly. "I'll find out for myself then. Not just 'that', but... everything." she states. There's no harm in investigating, right? After all, she has every faith that what she's taught within NESTS is unerringly true. Backing it up with a little fact checking seems harmless enough.
She looks thoughtful for a moment before finally glancing toward the clock mounted on the wall, a quiet 'Oh' escaping her lips. "It's time for me to visit those Punk Bitches in R and D," the girl states matter of factly. Apparently /their/ collective nickname has also been firmly established in her mind.
Angel rubs her chin a bit, caught in thought at that final statement. It's one of those moments where you realize 'oh wait, what did I just do?' "Don't, uh... don't call them that to their faces. It's better that those tools don't know that they're punk bitches." There, that'll set her straight. Yeah.
This is going to be a fun conversation with R&D tommorow.
She's accomplished a few things today, though, be they evil machinations or just her plain normal weirdness. Something no one knows but her, to be true.
Can Kula face the challenges presented in front of her, or is Angel too crafty!? We'll find out in the next exciting episode of Kula Diamond's Excellent Pop-Culture Adventure: Explosive Homework! If Kula can't do it, who can!?
"Oh hey, don't forget your jacket."
Log created on 12:36:23 05/10/2008 by Kula, and last modified on 21:37:02 05/10/2008.