*tap*
*tap*
*skritch*
"Specimen C-413 is hatching, Doctor. I give it another five minutes at most."
"Good. I trust you can take care of it?"
"Of course, Doc."
All these things he heard as if underwater, not really understanding the unfamiliar language. It was nothing like the murmurings in Alternian he heard in the endless dream the grub floated in, but that was forgotten in a seconds as he followed instinct, scraping and pushing at the smooth white inside of his egg, watching as cracks formed in his home. Stabbing a leg through, he chirped, hoping to catch the Mother Grub's attention. Continuing his attempts to escape, tiny vestigial gills working while he tried to get out into the open air, he finally managed to break through, chirping a distress call loudly. The indigoblood's first memory was blinding white light as freezing cold air hit his ashen skin and carapace, letting out a distressed squeak as he pushed away pieces of shell before landing on the metal of the table, shaggy hair wet from the indigo fluid once in the now shattered egg. Coughing up a bit of embryonic fluid, he chirped loudly again, wide indigo orbs devoid of any of the gold or black an adult would have searching for the Mother Grub, a lusus, anything he could recognize. Instead he let out a indignant squeak when he was lifted roughly up by warm hands, a square of fabric rubbing him dry none to gently until the other alien tutted, putting his hand on the woman's wrist.
"Gently. We might be in a hurry, but he is still a newborn."
The grub looked up to find a disgusted frown on the woman's face as she replied with a "With all due respect he's a /troll/, sir, and an indigoblood at that. What do I care about some grub no one is going to want to buy?"
Looking back over to the man, he shivered slightly at the white hair, supernaturally green eyes, and blank expression he was greeted with, an ancestral memory of First Guardians coming to him.
"Trust me, Ms. Snowman, I know someone who'll purchase an indigo once he's old enough. Give it a few sweeps." the tall alien replied coolly, taking the grub from her too tight grasp and rubbing shaggy black curls dry himself before giving the tiny troll a once over, expression unreadable. "You'll be Gamzee. Unwieldy to call you C-413 all the time; and if you're good I'll give you a licorice Scottie. " he said quietly, a faint accent that would make any human listening think 'British' within seconds.
Gamzee squeaked, giving a wide grin that showed pearly white baby fangs as his one of his front legs waved at this alien, earlier fear forgotten at the small show of kindness. The faintest smile quirked at one corner of the 'Doctor''s mouth as he adjusted his grip, the grub now finding himself held close to the alien's chest, peeking over his shoulder to stare back at the woman, her own mouth curling into a sneer.
"I'll hand him off to Kurloz once I've got him registered. Try not to do anything rash." he said coolly, beginning to walk towards the door.
"You mean his brother? Won't he rip him apart?" Snowman asked skeptically, crossing her arms.
The doctor tutted, pausing for a moment. "He doesn't have a brother, he has a dancestor whose closely genetically related. And I believe I know what I'm doing." he replied before walking off through cold, sterile hallways with Gamzee still held close, the click of white wingtip shoes the only thing able to be heard. The troll squeaked periodically, trying to escape the gentle but firm grip so he could explore, eventually giving up in favor of staring at the green buttons on the Doctor's dress shirt under the white lab coat. Gamzee yawned, getting tired of all this white, but soon enough they stopped at a locked, steel door, the Doctor pulling open several latches after flipping a square open that revealed glass allowing you to see in. He couldn't quite get that high, so no matter how many times the grub pushed up in an attempt to look, all he saw was a glimpse of leaves. The door was pulled open, revealing a sudden drop off to keep anything from escaping that led to what looked like real outdoors, a place that made his memory scream Alternia, though he tensed up slightly at the unmistakable scent of another troll.
