(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —The next morning…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)

Rising up at nine with limber stretch and a soft yawn, might've said her Jovi was still bonning.

Finally, had gotten her chance to uncork all the calamities of affairs current, and up to then, all she'd bottled up. Playing audience once again, over those she thought closest, a vagabond just as out for closure.

The same to hear the straight talk, break out the Symphod classics, and now sit aglow in sunrise, cheeks akin to a chipmunk but instead with Archduke Chocula. Bidding him good morning, and getting a smile and wave, would then rummage about the fridge and crack and scramble a bowlful of fresh eggs.

"Thomas, the honest truth… When I spoke of heroes, do you think I can ever become one again?"

Didn't realise he'd shovelled in another spoon of heart attacks in waiting; choc flakes and mini mallows, drowned in that all-in-one milk, cream and sugar combo, 'Third and Third and Third.' Ideal only for coffee lovers, and one he'd chew thoroughly and savour before he'd swallow and answer.

"The thought did trouble me, but not as it used to. Can't recall the bowl, the frypan nor much else though, then there's you pulling those eggs outta nowhere…"

Groundings of pepper, then a sprinkle of salt. "I'm sure that'd be the alcohol, and as for the eggs, just the 'instant' of instant delivery. Well, six seconds tops." Her dish to then set across from his. "So, like I was axing before—"

"We both know who's the worthier of us two. Why you still struggle to believe it yourself, it hurts to hear."

Could only brush back hair and begin to dig in—he hadn't spoken with such confidence in some time.

"Look, time itself guarantees that heroes never have clean records—shades of black and white existed since I was a kid. Yet despite the pitch I'd offer, even come to tar you with, nobody else reached out nor risked their arse to rescue me."

A crow's foot to form about her eye, to await another mouthful of cereal and her own too packed with protein.

"Gods know why given how we got there, but to describe your strength, courage, and capacity for love, I couldn't without selling it short. Maybe, just maybe, you're much closer than you'd care to admit—forget the fancy cape and costume."

A rosiness rarely known, to press a hand against her lips, smile, and turn just a touch, "Thank you. Seriously, thank you—felt as if nobody had faith in me anymore. Guess the same I never had in—"

"I'm nobody to demand it. Just grateful you got to me, even if it didn't seem it. Speakin' of that, how—"

"This apartment and I had a history, albeit a VERY brief one. In fact, if not for unseen friends, woulda never suspected you'd squat here. Though to realise how you were destroying yourself…"

"Had lots of practice. Not proud of it. Why my horrors must persist, grow, I—"

"Only so YOU can. And more than I'd say for many I've met, I'll add."

Breakfasts to continue with chatter about those near-midnight classics, from hardening their hearts to times of their lives, hurting so good to having eyes of the tiger, as clocks no longer became a concern. After that, would hit the showers then the streets, for there were essential matters at hand.

"Month of meal preps, lotta housework, SO much to do. You got plans yourself?"

"The usual; library, dining, maybe a nice walk. Can't say I can afford much else."

"Then here," she'd slip a Gore in his hand. "Consider that among my thanks… Really, for everything."

With a grip of hands, an over-the-shoulder hug, she'd then rub down and race off, soon leave flecks of water in her wake. The closest she had come to actual closure, maybe even the truth, in spite of burying dear friends beyond home.

(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)

"Ahhh, fine day, this Monday. In my opinion, finest I'll have in the thousands I've lived. Why would that be, Leela?"

Whatever the answer was, as he'd pat her back and simper, knew the Chief hadn't a good one—as coffee sips turned to slurps and she'd flick her newest issue with force, as the minute hand crept past the six, seven, eight then nine, she'd finally rise from the roundtable declaring she left the fridge open.

A lame excuse, but a good backup; once out of eyesight, would power up for the local Jersey depots, soon find her Officer pacing with knuckles bit. Quite an emergency to develop, as word went about of several delays rather sinister in origin—strange yet familiar voice over intercoms to demand compliance, only for crackling silence to cancel routes outright.

"Believe this stunt's gonna cook my Captaincy, fellas? And here I was thinking you'd be thankful…"

Hustling him outside once she called his name, without care for witnesses nor questions, would then rub on some cream and snatch a hand, get to skipping right across the river. By the time they'd gather in the lobby, the minute hand would've ticked past the eleven.

"Is it too much to ask, Captain, to just wanna do my job and do it properly?"

"It'd appear so, I'm afraid. Now come on, let's not be late."

Her most wicked smirk to relish those thudding fists, the Chief's yell of "Oh, foo!" as he tried to nurse that near-crack of bones. Side by side they'd take their seats, to an audience of slackened jaws and stiff bodies, all except one; bureaucrat to bitter ends, by badge and nature, to fix him a look like he'd gargled a gallon of lemon juice.

"Sweet can rattlin' in Manhattan mon, where 'de hell have yuh been?"

"Well let's see… Accusing parlour, Taco Bellevue, new place in Jersey, bottom of the Hudson, then back in PIECES to Taco Bellevue—"

"Yuh better stop with 'de smart mouth, I'm serious."

"And I wasn't? See, better or worse, I actually go on adventures. I don't sit on my arse all day pushin' papers."

Her hand on his, and a quick glare, "Enough, okay? Even I've been fired, and for far less."

"She's right about dat… So, have any idea how we found the Professor two weeks ago?"

"I'd say do tell, but, that'd assume I gave a crap about him."

"Oh for God's sake…"

"Bruised, bloodied, and broken all over. Mind explainin' how that came to be?"

"Careful who ya finger, Mr. Conrad. I guarantee our Captain can attest, that I'm not the type to take accusations lightly." Finger-point of his own, to give a knowing nod.

"You were caught on camera hovering over the handiwork, searching through his pockets."

"The last part, absolutely. The first, not a chance. Only because I'da preferred he suffer more, for all the games he'd play with my life. A just reparation, instead, to take his phone and leave."

"Excuse me, WHAT?!"

"Settle down, Hubert. I don't believe this, nobody's flouted that policy worse in over forty years—protect our founder, at any and all costs."

"Yeah? Look where that's gotten us. Great idea letting him drag us down, piss us off, whenever he pleases. That being said, can't forget how he'd do us an actual real solid—gonna get the relaunch we've really needed."

Up Hermes stood, palms slapping the table, "Do not change the subject! Even IF you're innocent of battery, and I've my doubts, you had NO right to take the long leave you did. Any leave, at all, as a matter of fact."

"So screw my state of mind at the time, you'd have ordered me back sooner? How the hell you've never had strikes or mutinies or revolts, I've no—"

"We have our ways Mayfield. And spare us the stories and excuses, I don't care to hear them. Just like you didn't care for the chaos you'd leave for us."

His small gulp to follow Mr. Conrad's hand, for with it he'd highlight the two or three dozen crates, minimum, spread across the hangar; who knew how many out of sight, to think about it.

"I care on my own terms—THAT starts with your opportunity to get in everyone's good graces again. And after a lifetime of real stupid choices, it's nice to get a lob even I could knock outta the park."

"I don't think so. Cost us such wicked green since ya left, I'm relaying the executive decision to end your employment, effective immediately. And yuh should be grateful we're letting yuh explore other lines of work."

Launching his knee into the table, to alarm just about everyone, "Excuse me, GRATEFUL?! Mate, what on every Gods' green earth have you been smoking?"

"Back chat me again, bwoy, I'll call the cops and light yuh cannon myself."

"Before you do, big boy, lemme remind you of a coupla things. One, it was MY idea that'd grow more 'green' in days, than you've done in years. Two, lest we forget, time's not on our side to fight over personal leave, UNPAID at that. And three, you test my being a criminal at your convenience, and yours alone."

Once again a fire in her Officer's eyes; fears of coming to blows there and then, until both guys took a breath and their seats.

"So how 'bout it Mr. Conrad, got a better deal?"

Would've bet the ship that his time was still up, yet instead, Hermes to clasp that considerable chin of his. Threats to cross the line, no question, yet knew better now than to believe them empty, especially to know he hadn't much else left to lose.

"Alright bigshot. Wanna take charge? Get all our crates out in one week! And if I see even a slither left, you'll be wishin' you took the cannon. We clear?"

Heard mutters of curses for this latest fine mess, but to then rise up and actually shake a hand, it'd appear it was one worth cleaning up.

"Fair deal, thank you. Alright people, arses into gear, let's go! Professor, let's warm up our miracle machine, might need to make us some fortunes."

"So THAT'S what you meant!" she'd clap her hands delightedly. "Of course; had I not been so—"

"Stop right there Ma'am. You had your reasons, and for having heard your story, they're all valid."

"Thanks kid. Anyway, guess Amy and I had better get Bessie ready."

A clack of claws to follow, "Could read some human medical stuff, maybe? Just in case ya lose a limb or—"

"You did good just gettin' the ambulance, crab, let's not tax ya further. Ladies of the ship, gentlemen at the desk? Let's rock."

A punch of palms before he'd leave everyone behind and began loading crates, as many as room would allow, before rushing for the bridge. Wasn't just the cream, no doubt, as they'd soon count down in unison.

(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —The infinite starfield…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)

As he'd settle in his chair, and they'd cruise smooth for Eagle-76, there was no helping the silent awe, the thinking that only through great ironies he got to gaze out among the heavens this morning.

Hadn't felt alive in aeons, and twisted as it was, had always wanted that which he'd lack at the death—the awful courage to accept, and follow the liquor there. And had he the budget for much finer guides, on both occasions, he might've never needed looking out ever again.

Instead gave the subtlest grin, a little bitty tear as well, as they'd touch down and he'd touch base, ticking off that manifest of championship rings and pennants. Young cub's cavalier guess that quite a pretty penny was exchanged—the stories he could've told those beings, honouring his new home, of what he'd coin the 'year of the underdog.'

Minutes later, or certainly seemed it, a planet of mossy and forest green; Amazonia, apparently, according to that next piece of paper.

"Seems easy enough, have this crate of netting signed and stamped in next to no time."

Clipboard taken out his hands, "For your sake Thomas, you'd better remain here. Those ladies like us well enough, but they REALLY don't care for your lot."

"Oh come on Captain, it can't be that bad. Bet my life there's a world of perfect Dianas to meet and greet—comic fan in me can't wait!"

"I believe I made my order clear. Now get hiding, and don't come out 'till I give the all-clear. Got it?"

"As you wish."

Was sure of experience talking, but to have no idea of any specifics, almost didn't keep his groan out of earshot. And as minutes bled into hours, or so it'd seem, his whole body couldn't help but twitch—wasn't long after he'd skip out the bridge to take in that fresh jungle air.

Most classic case of unfortunate timing, however; very moment he stepped off, found himself cranking neck toward who'd he call a Jennifer, or rather, her sensational foreign knockoff.

"Wait, what the HELL am I doing?!"

Barely a grunt of greeting, and nary a warning given, before her giant club—swung gently, mind—would clobber the senses outta him, far beyond whatever delays might've given cause. When next he woke, so wet as to be sopping, would dangle in shackles to strangle him or cut into wrists, high and dry in a dark stone chamber.

"Ahhh for shit's sake. If I had a blue Banjo for every fine mess of mine, death stare I'd get…"

"FEMPUTER DEMANDS TO KNOW WHAT BUSINESS YOU HAVE ON HER PLANET."

An almighty echo to reverb inside; grandest machine speaking, stark contrast to all else noted, to let little better than squeaks escape his throat.

"Real sorry Ma'am, was only out on Planet Express's behalf, here to deliver netting."

"I damn well told you to stay put! Now you'll be lucky to get outta here alive."

"WHAT?! Why didn't you lead with—"

"THAT REASON DOES NOT FEMPUTE, AT ALL. FEMPUTER SHALL RETURN, YOUR PAYBACK FOR TRESPASS IN HAND."

The sentence would come swift and end up quite severe; death by what they called 'snu-snu.' Even to know nothing of any chambers and ceremonies, there was no ignoring those once-lit cigarettes, giant smiles on skulls, and especially the crushed pelvises…

"Look, um, ladies? I've only watched my share of this 'snu-snu' over having it, so I know I won't satisfy ya before I die. Swear that's the truth, true as I stand naked now."

"Snu-snu virgin? That a first. Nothin' kill mood faster—any better ideas?"

"I'm not really sure… Say, what was all that netting for anyway, if I may ask?"

"They're for our courts, all our nets are almost worn out."

"I didn't know youse girls played ball. How 'bout a pick-up game—maybe I could watch?"

Knew he'd never hear the end of this, should word get out, but also knew he wasn't some orb-weaver spider, prepared to die for the pleasure of popping his cherry. Indeed, had higher hopes of such than playing like Mike; clothes back on, couldn't hide being impressed by the three-on-three that'd gather, duking it out in a close game of juggernaut offence and bulwark defence.

"Take a bow, both your teams. That was really a great show."

"You not care we can't dunk?"

"To pull off those crossovers, swishes from half-court, that fancy footwork? Of course not. Besides, game's evolved a lot."

It was then that he'd get their permission to walk free, having somehow earnt it; not the only stroke of luck to then be led back to Bessie, with Leela and Amy waiting patiently. They to give a long sigh—certainly not of gladness—then exchange a curious look.

"Took twice the time we would've, yet you're not even sore? So what WAS your excuse exactly?"

"I stand corrected Captain. It WAS that bad. Be damned glad to see the backs of those…"

Had he bitten harder he might've never spoke again; swore he heard a snide remark or two as they'd burst for Mars U at light-speed, then to Cineplex-14 virtually next door; proving easier runs by some margin, a quick errand for Farnsey, then a second go at signing off a crate of popcorn.

"Booyah, that abyss ain't got shit on us! And we never had need for any—"

"Haven't you got them yet? Then WHERE ARE THEY?!"

"What in the world, did that sound like—"

"His Highness is after this delivery; once you get 'em, we'll meet at these co-ordinates… NOW."

Looking this 'request' over, even he knew this fast food run was doomed on arrival, supposedly for some pageant at Tova-9. For starters, on account of not EXISTING anymore, there was no item they could fulfil, and of replacements in a rush, there was no hand-waving the crates they'd soon take in.

"Ohhhh, oh dear Gods… Ladies, get me a banjo, I'm 'bout to make the sequel to old Loudon's story."

"Pal, get it yourself, I'd rather get this over with," Leela would writhe. "Though what story would that be?"

"How dead skunks went from roadkill to delicacy."

"Compliments of Limburger King, and ain't like Fishy Joe's or McPluto's are much better, not even on Earth."

Flashbacks of Jersey or towns of tomorrow, as he was eventually led backstage, miracles kept handy mainly to save his nose. But what'd set off the worst of squirms, almost require a sit-down, would be that same voice over Bessie's comms, the same which'd probe an inquisitive peek beyond the curtains.

"You have GOT to be kiddin' me… Of all the heads I had to meet first, it'd be HIM? I shoulda taken snu-snu."

Turning that supposed contest into a campaign, the exact same guy whose sunny hair could shine from ten thousand miles away, spout those boasts perpetual of beauty pageants back in his time. Ladies cuter, chestier, and classier than the "freaks backstage", earning him a chorus that'd thunder with nuclear-grade boos, peppered with chants of "We want Bob!" over and over.

And following more unrepeatable rants and yet ANOTHER sponsor interruption, the reception became a powder keg—riot about to blow which'd sprint him right back for bridge, and not stop till he'd come aboard, breathless.

"Ma'am, think we might've landed in it now. Best you back me up, I think."

Stood beside that literal golden door, their trolley beating in and burning their nostrils, would give his Captain pause over the knocking knees and constant clenches.

"Thomas, you've never gone this pale, not even against my fists. What's up?"

"Every world leader I had to wander into, and—"

"Surely 'His Highness' isn't THAT bad."

"You don't have my memories of 'em, and that was during far better times for the guy. 'Bout the time I'd black out into a brand new life, the head I'd find would long be coined one of state. And, being VERY generous, let's just say they weren't by any means a conventional one."

"Still can't see how any of that's of any real concern, to come and get me."

"Read up on the history between them and contractors like us. And I'd lay everything—even my very clothes—down that they're gonna try and cheat us, or pick a serious fight."

"You worry too much. What's the worst they could—"

Immediate cocks of guns, red dots lined over skulls and chests, to shock both their spinal cords; even more agents to take aim once they were ushered inside, facing a particularly smug toad in place of the man he'd remember.

"Ambush from minute one… So much for good intentions, appearances of such."

"Time I seal my art, just as I've always done. So, shall we talk burgers?"

Heavy door already slammed shut, locked behind, to fear this wasn't going to be a two-way negotiation.

"Twelve-against-two, Sir? For this? Unless there's liquid gold in 'em, maybe ain't a deal I'd brag and crow about."

"You talk too much. I like people who speak only when spoken to. We understand each other?"

Glances quick as their hover dolly was stripped, the protests and complaints to come storming down—and justifiably so—courtesy of the contents being totalled up, building a stench to peel skin.

"What the hell—GET these outta here! Flush 'em all down! And you two… I couldn't make a more dead simple demand, and you both chose to try and poison me?"

"Sir, none of what you wanted was actually around, we flew EVERYWHERE. And on short notice, I might—"

A bullet right beneath his twin mates, so close he swore the hairs burnt, "Dealt with frauds, crooks, do-nothings and scum my whole damn life, and could never do anything…"

"When you always meet 'em, well…"

"And now I face you and this freak with the fat eye. Who's she, one of your special hires?"

To note Leela's clenches, face glowing red, would yet again go clammy.

"You may call her Captain, 'Sir'. Now, are we gonna sign this or—"

"Captain, her? THAT low-IQ lowlife? No wonder you're failures. I've ran many a company in my day; even to come up with tears in her eye, begging to scrub toilets, I wouldn't let her. She's an animal, a bigly clear disaster. So how 'bout we put that dog down, or I have your tongue shot down your throat?"

Couldn't say anything out loud, even as his own cheeks flushed; guy's former stature to afford him a real posse of professionals, though not above relishing in any acts. All the jeers and scorn to become raucous, and all they could do was breathe deep, lest they wound up full of little craters.

"You just gonna stand there then? Giving only the one chance to obey me—take the hint and take it."

Hearing that, he'd adjust his t-shirt just a touch, then walk in front and spread his arms.

"Sir"—an agent called out—"she's just pulled some green tube out his pants, shall we empty their pockets?"

"That won't be needed. But bring that up here, let's take a look."

"Oh now we're in for it."

"'May cause superpowers in humans?' Are you kidding me? You were gonna have her rub you down so you could save the day? Barring that, don't you have eyes? She's an alien, and not at all an attractive one."

"You got me, pal. That had been my plan, but my Ma and Da never raised a 'genius.'"

"Well let's have a little fun then, before we do this Fifth Avenue style. You, freak thing, how 'bout you give us a good 'ol strip?"

"I'll keep my eyes shut, ma'am."

Only words to hear were "What next?" in a tone akin to acid; upon the order to rub herself down, knew a line was being crossed, and he did not hesitate.

"Haven't you humiliated us enough? Please don't do this, please."

"I'll do whatever I damn well want, and you WILL like it."

Kept his eyes closed and himself cowed; when he did inadvertently catch a glimpse, realised she was actually about to seize their moment. And all simply out of hubris, a hand played well until it wasn't, to so disparage his Captain.

"But you won't."

Rushed off to a corner, he'd hear the orders to perforate them; storming hail of hot lead, likely 9mm and NATOs, to begin littering those marble floors. Yet none to pierce her skin, or his, before she'd apply the same with haste.

"Ohhhh dear, done pissed us off now…" Both to stand, dust off, and advance on that crack team.

"Was all totally their idea, don't know nor heard of these—"

"And we're just gonna oblige the biggest gasbag who always plays the same game, only to then try murdering us? I don't s'pose any of your agents have asked themselves THAT question, huh?"

"They follow my orders out of loyalty!"

"Yet you'd throw 'em to the wolves the first challenge you got. As you've always done."

"But how, how did that work on her? Was nothing AT ALL human about that freak."

"Let's be real clear, mate. She always has been, and one I shoulda aspired to be. And just like us, she's not above indulging her baser instincts—why, gave her MANY good reasons, I gotta say."

"And you're beneath even her?"

"Still you doubt what she can do? Very well… Ma'am?"

Every gun snatched inside of ten seconds, maybe five; the lucky ones from their hands, the others ripped right out their circuitry. Of those left, from barrel to stock, left them little better than mangled steel and splintered wood, least that he could tell while giving back her tank top and pants.

"End of demo. For the love of money she's fought almost her entire LIFE, against things bigger and badder than you could imagine. Why would I not bring her along?"

"Free World leader, king of media, God of real estate… Does that not mean anything to you losers?"

"You were. 'Built' a brand that shone like gold, which for decades, you'd pave with the bones of people like us. Better yet, bankrupted and ruined for the privilege."

That jar of liquid to take on all kinds of hues, if possible; the blue of pale shock, the beet-red of indignity, even a plum-purple rage. Unrepeatable rants, no doubt over the accusation, until Leela gripped his hair and lifted him clear out his jar.

"This is not how you treat a former—"

"She's through, and I'm sick, of trying to be fair and kind. So here's the deal, either sign our papers and cough up the cash, or feel a millennium's worth of wrath on behalf of everyone you've screwed… Comprendo, amigo?"

A simple stomp or two to punctuate their offer, destroy marble beyond repair—it'd earn a hurried scrawl, or rather a seismic reading, on their contract. Grabbing their dolly back, it'd require a decontamination and deepest clean, one they were only too happy to perform upon leaving.

"Oh dear God, Thomas, you people VOTED that guy in? Man, the Stupid Ages lasted a lot longer than we were always told."

"He was fuelled by billions worth in free coverage, by opponents taking him lightly, and even THEN, he didn't expect to occupy our Oval Office. Tens of millions never cared that he ate from diamond spoons since birth, never cared how he'd lie, cheat, steal as easy as he'd breathe. To them, was a maverick with no filter, a man unable to be bought, a people's champion."

"Is that a joke? Tell me, you're joking."

Offered only a shrug, "We'd wonder why too. And of everybody's motives, what answer or theory could I even start to give?"

Musings over what the man might've been since being taken, while Earth and the day's end, finally, both came into sight.

"Dunno 'bout you, Captain, but I better meet Lucifer in ice skates before anyone like THAT again."

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Never met a man so giddy to get extra work, but as he'd gather his things for the showers, figured the best policy was not to ask. Hardly a day he wanted to let linger, as historic as it'd been and hopeful a sign it'd seem.

"Five deliveries, still dozens to go. Can't let myself lose focus, not for the inevitable overtime."

Through the lockers and under the nozzle, purpose with each pace, yet right as the first sprays crashed upon his temple, a creep of voices had him look over his shoulder.

"No way I'm walkin' out smellin' worse than Zoidberg. I don't care what the water bill looks like."

Stepping away to switch it off, he'd make a move hoping not to be noticed. Scent of living corpses aside, however, Ma and Da didn't raise a master of roguery; once the ladies—wearing not a thread—and he crossed paths, could've sworn to subtle giggles.

"Surely you're not afraid of little 'ol us, are you Thomas?"

"Nooo, course not Captain," he'd try to puff up. "Had just finished, w-was about—"

"So you're gonna board our North to South and scrub up at home?"

Cross of arms, cute smirk to shake him, "I, er, um, well…"

A playful twirl of finger to enact a pirouette of sorts, where after he'd almost topple, was right back under spray and soon joined at either side. Any hope of working up soap suds to dim fast, though not for nothing—with every peek at ladies lathering, much of him to flush, quicken, or start to stir.

"Silken lavender past shoulders of cream, those fire arms, the loveliest girls, the perkiest—DAMN this mind of mine! Can't move now, and gonna cop it to get caught. Get a grip, mate, and get on—"

"Giving ya all the good angles, kid?"

Facing the slyest grin, almost broke his neck trying to glance elsewhere, only for cleared throats to direct him back.

"Try all you like, ain't foolin' me… Actin' as though you never seen a naked woman in any life."

"Oh, ohhh my, umm, err…"

"Okay, slack-jaw, I'll make it simpler—you like what you see, or don't? And try and speak English."

"Sorry, Captain, w-w-word—"

Tried to return to washing himself, meanwhile shelling inside, but was pulled up again.

"You know I don't care for waiting. Spit it out."

"Word was love, dammit… It was love."

"See, wasn't that easy? And without cream, I might add."

Relief upon her smile, then another voice, "Saw you lookin' my way too. So how 'bout me?"

Full frontal in the flesh, second-ever from a stranger, to leave him breathless and palming white-tiled walls; trust him to catch extra eyefuls, as he'd play chiropractor.

"Struth—this even real? See me, see yourselves—didn't crash-land on some planet of fantasies, did we?"

"No, safe and sound on Earth, but you two go enjoy your time. I'll just be lonely, as per usual."

"Captain, shmease! Nothin' wrong with me joining in the fun, is there?"

"Whoa, whoa, what fun are we talkin'?" he would swivel. "Ladies, forget it, ain't gonna burden you good sorts."

Earnt him quite the splutter, "Do you even remember who you used to be? Especially against who you are now? How impossible do you think we, or hell ladies in general, are?"

"Every morning I wake up. And nothing of anyone I've become can apply, so long as who I'd condemn haunts me still."

"Thomas, I get that one's gotta grieve, but you'll go mad doing that the rest of your life."

"How, HOW don't you understand?!" would slap the tiles, glaring back. "To that very night, their love and support would never waver, even as I'd fail at every fuckin' thing under the Sun. I thought you knew how it felt, to lose every last good thing left."

"Ohhh, sweet older brother! Pal, they shoulda done their name a favour and disowned you."

Neck veins to now really throb, "Who said that? Who the HELL said that?!"

Slap of flesh to stir him, a cry of "Ow!" to convince him. "Son-of-a—sorry, dude! Talking devil from old tax rebates—one of the sole things I've regretted, even for how I am with money."

"Don't act like you don't love me, little lady. Not like removal's outta your budget, what exists of one."

"Christ Amy, as if I hadn't enough to get used to."

"Hey, Saint Dickless, don't you go taking my family in vain."

"They the same ones who'd disown YOU, dickhead? Yeeaah, not like you can talk, can ya?"

Leela to almost leap in, "Alright, that's enough, everybody shut up! To answer you Thomas, of course I do; was blaming myself, declaring I deserved the bad luck, long before you'd arrive."

Soft hand to cup his shoulder, "But I realised, upon opening up to you, that there was much more at play. That even I was worth grace, and you're worth that too."

Actual head to thud against the tiles, "Don't ever tell me I deserve that. No matter the whats, hows, and whys, I'm still the IDIOT who'd rip apart the angels who'd raise me up, dream big for us. And nothing I'll do since will ever wash those bloodstains out."

Never saw Amy gripping a bicep, nor Leela's soft-eyed frown, as he'd leave the latter's grip and drip red-faced out of their sight.