crux_fleet | (no subject)

Who: Rosette and YOU
Where: One of the main thoroughfares into the market
When: Several hours after the attack has been repelled/Day 1
What: THE ROSETTE IS DRIVING HOW CAN THIS BE?
Warnings: Nuns with guns

Rosette has through dubious means acquired both a vehicle and a license. It would make sense in the celebratory mood and the heavy congestion of militia and soldiers returning from their victory and civilians leaving their shelter that traffic would get a bit touchy.

More than a bit touchy.

In fact, it only took one person getting tired of how slowly their nice, computer operated car was going to crash into three other vehicles in an unusual fit of road rage.

Maybe you're in the next car over with friends, maybe you're just leaving the market, maybe you're standing by or floating over traffic with your magical floaty powers. And then there's Rosette. How does Rosette react to the traffic jam? STOMP HER WAY UP ON TOP OF SOMEONE ELSE'S CAR TO YELL AT OTHER PEOPLE NEW YORK STYLE.

"JUST MOVE! THERE'S SPACE RIGHT THERE! ARRG ARE YOU BLIND!" She stomps on the roof of the car she's standing on. Probably your roof.

((OOC NOTE: This is after infection but before anyone knows what is going on! Enjoy your new temperament in a traffic jam.

Prose and fast tagging both welcome and responded in kind!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She pulls back, hearing the tone from her friend. She rocks back on her heels and smiles, sympathetically. "... I bet you wanted to get home, huh."

Slowly, his face became more expressive and he felt an ache in his heart. His eyes and mouth folded into a frown as he woefully chirped. He had thought it was all over, too. Home was so close, only a step away. It felt far too long then, just how much longer did he have to wait here?

And Rosette, what was she doing here? What started as a spark of emotion soon grew into an uncontrollable flurry. He felt happy to see her again, more than happy; he wanted to dance with joy. Yet just as soon as it came, the furious shouts of those left in the wreck washed him over with crippling fear. Why, they should get away from here!

He shrank back like a frightened animal, but he would not leave Rosette. Where should they go? He looked at her.

"Ah! Right..." That was... a messy situation. A messy, expensive situation. A messy expensive situation that there were sirens approaching ... Between that and Franc's sudden cowering, the decision was made.

"This way!" She tugs at his suit sleeve, starting (quickly) towards the market. With aliens of all shapes and sizes, even he wasn't likely to stand out that much.

Just how well could a sharply dressed mutant flea blend in with them? Especially with that long, blue scarf trailing behind him. Hopefully they would not find the answer to that in the worst way. He followed close to her. He constantly looked behind in such an obvious way to see if anyone was following them.

His mandibles twitched as he nervously chittered.