foolishwren | 95. [Video/Action for Ecruteak] Slightly backdated, early afternoon on the 15th

Current Mood: hot
Current Location: Ecruteak City Inn

95. [Video/Action for Ecruteak] Slightly backdated, early afternoon on the 15th

_{[Before anything else, Heather's voice: a little husky and hoarse-sounding, but otherwise high-spirited.]}

Hey.

Hey guys.

Watch this.

_{[Is she aware of the strange outbreaks and Team Rocket threats all over the news? Yes. Yes, she is. Should she be spending her time being concerned about this? Probably.]

[But she has much better things to do with her time.]

[Like film Wren the Murkrow skittering across the top of the coffee table in their Ecruteak Inn room with a tiny plastic battleaxe toy in her beak, where she proceeds to bull over a GeoDude (tm) superhero action figure with a viciousness appropriate for the battlefield. Which is what is being broadcast, of course.]

[What follows is a series of cuts showing her triumph over various other toys (pretty obviously grabbed from a discount bin in some shop somewhere), including Armaldo Schwarzenegger and Darmanitanman ("The Meditation Sensation!") and even a figurine of Barnaby the Shiny Charizard.]

[In several of the shots, Heather's other Pokemon are visible-- Arty the Furret looking on in contempt and Cheryl the Eevee watching in utter fascination over the edge of the table. At one point, the fuzzy baby Joltik she'd hatched a few months back skitters onto the scene, eager to help, but is promptly chased off the table again by the axe-wielding Murkrow, who apparently is a Lone Warrior who needs no assistance.]

[The whole time, Heather is humming ominous theme-music and jiggling the camera in that classic 'found footage' way.]

[Eventually she turns the camera on herself to address the surely-enthralled audience solemnly. Her face is oddly flushed, strangely... although perhaps not, given the summer heat.]}

This has been a Public Services Announcement: my bird is an unstoppable killing machine. Nowhere is safe.

Keep your children in at ni-- oh noooo.

_{[As though on cue, the vaguely football-shaped black bird had come wriggling onto the screen again, clambering up Heather's arm to determinedly butt the side of her face with the toy axe. >:(!!!!]

[There's some 'fighting' and then the camera goes blank.]

[END FEED]}

[ACTION]

_{[With Wren successfully wrestled off into doing something else, Heather shuts the 'Gear and sets it aside, slumping back in her chair with a sigh. Even in shorts and the skimpiest top she owns, it's miserably hot. Enough to sort of make her head pound. She doesn't get it. She remembers the fading summer heat last September being pretty well-managed by all the whirring fans in the Inn...]

[Twisting around, she drapes herself over the back of the chair, poking her tongue out discontently.]}

Guys.

Guuuuuys.

Aren't you just dying in here? This heat is gross.

_{[The TV's on over in the corner. They're talking about the outbreak-- about all the people coming down with mysterious fevers.]

[But that's somewhere else. It can't touch any of them. .... Right?]}

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[Knock, knock, Heather. Someone saw that little show on the 'gear and has decided you need to be checked in on.]

[So open up :| ]

_{[Henry is busy being a bum with his stupid scrapbook stickers, so Heather takes it upon herself to answer the door, figuring that maybe Dad had forgotten his room key or something.]

[... And then instead of Harry standing there with a sheepish expression, she's met with a GIANT EXPANSE OF GRUMPY OLD MAN.]}

--Ironhide!

_{[Are you ready for a hug, Ironhide? YOU'D BETTER BE READY FOR A HUG. Because you're getting one.]}

[The mountain-in-disguise grunts a little when she flings herself at him, but he manages to catch her before she ends up bouncing off him, or something.]

[Cue the awkward back-patting as the mighty Ironhide attempts to hug.]

Hey, kid. You all right? Saw... saw the video thing.

_{[She can hardy fit her arms all the way around him, but GOSH DARNIT SHE TRIES. Meanwhile, Henry's probably hidden in his sleeping bag or something. Because Ironhide.]}

What, that? Pf, you thought that was serious?

I'm fine!

_{[She finally withdraws and grins up at him-- although he may have noticed, during the hug, that her skin is unusually hot-- even for a carbon-based being that generates its own body-heat on a summer day.]}

[Yes, Henry, you'd better hide.]

[He gives her back a few awkward thumps with his hand, before she steps back.]

I never know with you, kid.

[He frowns a little, though, and reaches out to clasp her on the shoulder, suddenly.]

... You been running around?

_{[She'd take the time to make a face up at him, but his question surprises her. She shakes her head.]}

Nuh uh. The total opposite, actually. I've just been lying around like a slug.

It's too hot to do anything else.

... Your exterior is overheated. You should cool it down.

That's what I've been trying to do! It's sweltering!

C'mon, aren't you ro-- ... dude.

_{[She had reached out to lay a hand on his arm as though to prove her point, only to find that ... holy shit, he was actually a NORMAL (cool in comparison) temperature!]

[.... Well, enjoy the fact that Heather is now holding your arm to her forehead, Ironhide.]}

Dude.

_{[YOU ARE COOL MAN. YOU ARE SO COOL RIGHT NOW. LITERALLY.]}

Not half bad. Better than it being cold all the time.

[He almost jerks his arm back out of habit. Ironhide... has never been the biggest fan of people in his personal space, or invading space. Even people with special privileges, like Heather. The hand on his arm was fine, but holding it to her head?]

... Kid, what are you doing?

_{[SORRY IRONHIDE it just has to be this way. She keeps her forehead pressed to it.]}

Your arm is COLD.

Holy crap. How are you staying this cool in the heat?

[He leans. Back. A little more. No, that's a lie, it's a lot more.]

I am not cold... You sure you are feeling all right, kid?

Mhm. Fine.

_{[But she says it distractedly. She is really burning up.]}

... I do not believe you.

Do I have to take you to a medic?

A medic? No, jeez!

_{[She finally lets go of his arm, staring up at him indignantly.]}

It's summer. It's hot.

Then why am I not overheating, hm?

[He just folds his arms.]

Because--

_{[She pauses.... gesturing vaguely with one hand and looking him up and down.]}

... Because...

I have no idea.

If you have no idea, then you need to see the medic.

No arguments.

_{[Ironhide you should know by now that the phrase 'no arguments' means NOTHING to Heather.]}

No. Way.

What Centers weren't BLOWN UP are being used for all those people coming down with like... nuclear radiation or whatever the hell it is.

I'm not going down there because I'm hot on a summer day.

... Radiation?

[Well, now he's studying Heather in a whole new light.]

[Guess who got a full-on lecture about the effects of radiation on organic beings before the Autobot medic took off for a mission to Chernobyl?]

Your head feel all right? Not... purging your tanks at all?

_{[She's pretty much just parroting what she heard on the news-- a theory.]

[But needless to say, she stares up at Ironhide like he just asked her if she had any lobsters crawling out of her nose.]}

... Purging my t-- ... what, you mean barfing?

_{[... Yes, Heather. He means barfing.]}

[She's also parroting it to an old soldier known for being overly paranoid in the scheme of things.]

Yeah. That.

Are you?

Wh-- no!

If I was BARFING, I wouldn't be telling you I'm not sick!

_{[Her... head DID hurt, though...]}

What about fatigue? You feel tired at all? Not... eating?

_{[To think that the explosion-happy guy could fret and mother-hen with the best of them...]

[She heaves a sigh and reaches up to rub her eyes.]}

Well, NO, but dude, it's HOT out. I'm never hungry when it's this hot out!

Plus it sucks the energy right outta you.

[He learned it from the best mother-hen of them all. His ~~boyfriend~~ medic.]

Still think you should be checked out. Better to be safe... [he waves a hand] In case it really is radiation.

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[Action] this icon should be called "Heather No."

[Action] it really should

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