( Add that to their list of lowkey impending competitions - a lie-off. Odds are probably favoring Lance on this one. Only one person could be a suitable judge, really. Table it for later.
He sighs, rubbing his forefinger and thumb back and forth across either eyebrow with the same hand holding the pen; it juts out from beneath his knuckle into the open air. )
You mean the, uh... giant fucking aliens? Yeah, no, I... I saw those, yeah. They seem...
( Humanoid. Sentient. Like they have the home-field advantage. Like they have an ulterior motive. )
no subject
He sighs, rubbing his forefinger and thumb back and forth across either eyebrow with the same hand holding the pen; it juts out from beneath his knuckle into the open air. )
You mean the, uh... giant fucking aliens? Yeah, no, I... I saw those, yeah. They seem...
( Humanoid. Sentient. Like they have the home-field advantage. Like they have an ulterior motive. )
Friendly.