"You cast me as the prince!" Beka cried.
Dylan let his hands up. "Wait-wait-wait. Let's not get sidetracked."
"No, let's get sidetracked. I really want to get sidetracked!"
Rommie sat down on the table, trying to discreetly nudge her flexi into the delivery crate.
"Not that I don't enjoy watching you sit in front of me, but Dylan's gonna be awfully upset."
"Shut up, Harper," Rommie muttered.
"Ah-ah! What's in it for me?" Harper whispered back.
"I'll make sure yours gets in too?"
"Nope."
"Sparky Cola?"
"'Aim high,' Rommie, isn't that what they tell you in boot camp?"
"Sparky Schnapps?"
"Now you're talking." Harper opened the courier case up and snugged Rommie's flexi into one of the foam-padded slots.
Meanwhile, Dylan and Beka were still at it.
"Valiant vessel? You sound like a broken vocoder!"
"Just because you've ruined the language doesn't mean I have to follow along!"
"'Ruined the language'? You don't sound like broken vocoder, you sound like an old geezer whining about the word 'ain't'! And I still can't believe you turned Sleeping Beauty into an autobiography. Talk about ego!"
"Beka, you're upset. You don't mean that," Trance interjected.
"Butt out!" Beka snapped, as Dylan declared, "This is not your conversation!"
They looked at each other briefly, realized they were staring at each other, then quickly glanced at their feet.
Finally, Dylan explained, "It's not an autobiography. I'm just trying to bring up to speed, that's all."
"Up to whose speed? Dylan, why do you have to try to change everything? The Commonwealth—okay, so you've got delusions of grandeur. But can't you just leave a simple old fairy tale be?" Beka suddenly sounded tired.
Sensing a major crisis, Harper suddenly stood up. "Hey, about my story, eh? I think it deserves some consideration."
Dylan let his hands up. "Wait-wait-wait. Let's not get sidetracked."
"No, let's get sidetracked. I really want to get sidetracked!"
Rommie sat down on the table, trying to discreetly nudge her flexi into the delivery crate.
"Not that I don't enjoy watching you sit in front of me, but Dylan's gonna be awfully upset."
"Shut up, Harper," Rommie muttered.
"Ah-ah! What's in it for me?" Harper whispered back.
"I'll make sure yours gets in too?"
"Nope."
"Sparky Cola?"
"'Aim high,' Rommie, isn't that what they tell you in boot camp?"
"Sparky Schnapps?"
"Now you're talking." Harper opened the courier case up and snugged Rommie's flexi into one of the foam-padded slots.
Meanwhile, Dylan and Beka were still at it.
"Valiant vessel? You sound like a broken vocoder!"
"Just because you've ruined the language doesn't mean I have to follow along!"
"'Ruined the language'? You don't sound like broken vocoder, you sound like an old geezer whining about the word 'ain't'! And I still can't believe you turned Sleeping Beauty into an autobiography. Talk about ego!"
"Beka, you're upset. You don't mean that," Trance interjected.
"Butt out!" Beka snapped, as Dylan declared, "This is not your conversation!"
They looked at each other briefly, realized they were staring at each other, then quickly glanced at their feet.
Finally, Dylan explained, "It's not an autobiography. I'm just trying to bring up to speed, that's all."
"Up to whose speed? Dylan, why do you have to try to change everything? The Commonwealth—okay, so you've got delusions of grandeur. But can't you just leave a simple old fairy tale be?" Beka suddenly sounded tired.
Sensing a major crisis, Harper suddenly stood up. "Hey, about my story, eh? I think it deserves some consideration."