Video;

[manofiron]

[ The video begins with a dark-haired man centered in the middle of the frame. He’s got dark eyes, a precisely cut goatee, and hair that’s a little too styled to be naturally that neat. There isn’t a lot to see beyond his chin, he’s sitting too close to the camera, but what can be seen looks vaguely like a shirt of shiny red metal.

His brow knits almost immediately after the feed starts recording, his expression edging toward disbelief as his lips twist into a mild frown. ]

Look. I get it. In a time of crisis, rationing’s necessary to keep resources moving in the right direction. Perfectly understandable. You guys needed to save your turtle. What responsible citizen wouldn’t do their part for that noble cause?

[ There’s a slight hint f sarcasm creeping into his voice, as though he’s heard the whole turtle spiel already and not only hasn’t been impressed, but also doesn’t really buy it either. Not even after having spent half a day scouring the network for information about what’s really going on here before making this video. ]

But really? Twenty bucks?

[ The low, indistinct murmur of another voice can be heard, though what it’s saying and who it belongs to is anyone’s guess. Whatever it says, it’s enough to make the man roll his eyes. ]

Juulan. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. The point — [ Whether he’s talking to the camera or the unidentified voice is unclear. ] — is that it isn’t enough for a day, let alone the entire bogus adventure.

[ It isn’t so much the way he looks at the camera – his eyes have never left it – but the change of his tone, less querulous and more curious, that indicates that he’s talking to whoever’s on the other end of the console. ]

So really. Turtle propaganda aside. What’s a guy gotta do to get some decent money around here? Sell his organs? Hit the street corners? Scrub barnacles off the bottom of the turtle? What?

Comments

[manofiron]

It's not because you've gotten them wet, is it?

[ They could be like gremlins. He doesn't know. ]

Have you tried feeding them after midnight?

[pandoricas]

[Stare.]

Why would I want to feed them at all?

[manofiron]

Won't they die if you don't?

[pandoricas]

I'm not an expert in this.

[manofiron]

Technically, you're more of an expert than me.

[pandoricas]

Still not an expert.

[manofiron]

You still know more about them than I do.

[ He has already dubbed you the Tribble Expert, Rory. There's no escaping it now. Expect calls at ungodly hours about stupidly inane, impossible to answer tribble-related questions whenever Tony's unable to sleep and bored. ]

[pandoricas]

[Wait what why.]

I barely know anything about them!

[manofiron]

[ Them's the breaks, pal. ]

I think you're still missing the point where I don't know anything about them.

[pandoricas]

[But he never asked for this!!]

You'd just need an hour to get to my level of understanding.

[manofiron]

Lucky for me I found you then, isn't it? You can get me up to speed.

[ Tony's selective understanding ability prevents him from recognizing thinly veiled, or blatant, attempts to make him go away. ]

[pandoricas]

[Rory is now really regretting talking to you now.]

I don't--

[WHY ARE YOU JUST LIKE THE DOCTOR IN THIS, JFC.]

Can't you ask somebody else?

[manofiron]

Why would I ask someone else when I can ask you?

[ Geez, man. Talk sense. ]

[pandoricas]

[But you're the one not making sense here--]

Because other people will know this better than I do?

[manofiron]

[ Tony Stark. Sense. Does not compute. System failure. ]

But I won't know that until I find out what you know, will I?

[pandoricas]

[Surely there has to be some...]

I'm saving you the trouble now and telling you that I don't know much at all.

[CAN YOU JUST STOP, PLEASE.]

[manofiron]

You don't like me much, do you? It's okay. Don't feel bad. Most people don't. I still think you'll be a great tribble-whisperer.

[pandoricas]

You're very easy to not like.

[Oh so dryly.]

And trying to say nice things doesn't help either.

[manofiron]

Good to know. Thanks.

[pandoricas]

Don't mention it.