Marty Mikalski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolproofed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2014-03-08 10:38 pm
foolproofed) wrote in ataraxion2014-03-08 10:38 pm
Video. (just a little while after the jump)
So!! Okay, hey everybody. How's it hanging? It's Marty here, and I've got some pretty bitchin' news.
[He's hanging out in a kitchen (where else), and he's got what appears to be something under a sheet, protected under the thin fabric. Judging by the smug look on his face and the twinkle in his eye, he's pretty damn proud of whatever he's concocted. People who have been watching him in the gardens may not be all that surprised by this.]
So, engineering - really screwed some of us up, right? People who went in there got pretty sick, and I'm noticing it's a trend after the jump, too. Meanwhile, here I am, making potato chips. So I think 'Marty, why not make this the best of both worlds?' With that in mind, I present to you my lovechild:
[WA-BAM. He removes the blanket to show a table full of bowls, with sexy potato chips filling every bowl. This is a labor of love, people. Months and months of turning into a stoner farmer, all for this moment. Hell yeah. But wait! There's more!]
I present to you:
Marty's Medical Marijuana Chips!!
Feeling super nauseous right now? Well, these chips here have the goods baked right in; a few of these bad boys and you'll be riding a nice high for a few hours while your sickness clears up. Plus, they taste fucking delicious, and that's the second most important thing when it comes to a little jump vertigo. Granny T ain't got shit on me.
[....]
They're not all gonna be marijuana chips. Just. Jump ones.
Promise.
[Nobody tell Edgeworth.]
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no response to that. He just walks into said kitchen about thirty minutes later, looking a cross between run over and like he got interrupted in the middle of an intense soap opera marathon, maybe. Romantic comedy marathon? Either way if he was a lady the immediate conclusion would be that he'd spent a significant amount of time before this moment with shitty television, tissues, and ice cream.
He also looks like he'll stab whoever suggests such a thing in the eye.]
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Busy day?
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[Punctuated by his almost-melodramatic slump against the nearest refrigeration unit, and he crosses his arms. Finally grunts and nods a little in greeting where he forgot it before.]
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[He slouches his elbows on the table, looking interested.
Talk to Marty, he will listen to your troubles.]
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Looks at weed chips.
Grabs... weed chips... looks back over at Marty. Y?]
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Not until he gets a way better reply than one of your sour-ass looks.]
You really gonna give Martin here the cold shoulder?
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Don't wanna...
[Anything, really. Big sigh.]
Fine. I'll gossip or whatever [look any superfluous conversation is basically gossip to him] after I finish. How's that.
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Gossip, huh? How about simultaneously eating and gossiping?
[Y/Y?]
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No.
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I thrive on company here. And not the kind that stares and never talks.
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[It's actually the idea that he'll be making Marty upset that curbs his desire to grab and run, or make another deal that doesn't involve speaking. So he nods and shuffles himself and his newfound chips over, pops one into his mouth and wishes he'd at least taken a shot before coming.]
Okay. I'm not, uh. Good at talking.
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Shouldn't countries be good at... I dunno. Exchanging words?
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[Chewing on chips. Om nom. In the middle of it he adds "needs cheese".]
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... How the hell do country people work? In your world?