John!! [It's shouted over the comms, Aeryn's voice amplified well enough by Moya's winding corridors even without the additional technological assistance. They've been stranded, drifting, for weeks now, and she's going to frelling kill him whether he's suffering from space delirium or not.
He does not get to pull parts from her prowler to repair his module. And he absolutely does not get to leave his useless dren laying all over her perfectly maintained console.]
John where the frell are you? [It takes-- literally-- every last bit of effort to bring her tone down to something unconvincingly conversational. Tense throat muscles and a curled lip keep the words too harsh to be sincere.] ...I just want to talk.
no subject
He does not get to pull parts from her prowler to repair his module. And he absolutely does not get to leave his useless dren laying all over her perfectly maintained console.]
John where the frell are you? [It takes-- literally-- every last bit of effort to bring her tone down to something unconvincingly conversational. Tense throat muscles and a curled lip keep the words too harsh to be sincere.] ...I just want to talk.
About-- [Likely subject. Likely subject.] food.
[Nailed it.]