Sixty-Sixth Theory [Voice]

[i_speak_softly]

[Things have been remarkably normal for Don lately, a very tolerable mix of the mildly bad and the mildly good. On the one hand, he's coming down with a case of his annual flu, and he actually kind of misses his elf. On the other hand, his various lessons have been going well, he's enjoying the new toys Robert gave him for Christmas, and all the effort that went into creating the winter room has been entirely worth it.]

[In between keeping his hands and mind occupied, and lounging indolently just because he can for once, Don has made a habit of posing a random question over the journals every day. Today the low-grade fever is making it hard to think straight, so the question is a strange one:]

People. In Luceti. Are from different worlds. [Give him a minute, he's pretty sure he's going somewhere with this.] But. Some of us have a lot in common, in surprising ways. Who... Who in Luceti seems like, you know, like long-lost twins? Even if they maybe haven't met each other here yet.

Or. What combination of people here would just be... really interesting. I mean, if you put them together to make a new person. Who's different from anyone we already have.

[A long pause.]

I think I'm sick.

[He's going to. Um. Do something about that. Then he will be back to answer any comments.]



((I am Donatello-mun and I pre-approve all thread-jacking.))

Comments

[semper_cogitans]

[Because you are on top of him, you derp. That makes it kind of difficult to get up and re-wet the towel...

Give him a moment to figure out that you want him to do that, though, Don.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don is dimly aware that various signals are being misinterpreted, but he really does not want to do the blunt-and-specific thing right now. He'll just lie around being miserable until Robert figures it out on his own.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Eventually - which is to say, after maybe half a minute - Robert grabs enough context from the miserable-looking Turtle to realize he really does want the washcloth again; he just is too ill to get it. As soon as this thought hits the scientist, he begins awkwardly trying to shimmy himself out from underneath Don.

This may or may not work particularly well, but once he manages to get free, he'll go grab the towel and run off to wet it again - probably leaving the Turtle unceremoniously sprawled on his shell on the couch.]

[i_speak_softly]

[When Robert leaves, Don splays out his arms and legs across the couch, looking as pathetic and helpless as possible. How is he supposed to survive this severe illness without your constant presence?]

[semper_cogitans]

[Now that is just a heartbreaking spectacle. Robert actually pauses as he returns to the sofa, wetted washcloth in hand, and just kind of looks at Don with a strangely intense feeling of guilt.]

... Don...?

[i_speak_softly]

[A tiny moan, just to complete the overdramatic picture. Help.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Robert practically falls over himself in his haste to get back onto the couch. It takes a bit of fiddling, but eventually he's propped the all-too-dramatic ninja into his lap again and is soothingly rubbing his fevered brow with the now-pleasantly-cool washcloth. One wonders what his brothers would think if they saw this.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don loves Robert very much, and nuzzles against his stomach - sorry about the snot - to prove it.]

[Seems like a good time to fall asleep.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Indeed it does.

Goodnight, sweet ninja. Robert will just sit here until you're asleep enough to leave and have his legs smashed for however long. Ahh, romance...]