[All four of wee!Elfangor's eyes widen as he stares. Where did this pink alien come from and how does he only have two legs and no tail and how does he see behind himself--
Wobbly as his skinny legs are, it's no surprise when he quite literally falls over himself in his over-excited state.]
< No... > [There may or may not be the mental equivalent of a teary sniffle lost in there.] < what kind of battery is that? >
< That's just how people talk. How do you make sounds like that? >
[He points at Matt's mouth curiously. He knows he's not supposed to get so close to others, but this is interesting and he wants to know how that works.]
< Are you injured? Is that why you have a hole in your face? >
[Pointing out the fluffing only serves to make him fluff even more intensely.] < It is not intentional! It just... happens. > [No way is he explaining what it signifies. And he gladly jumps on the change of topic.]
< Yes, I'm an Andalite. Though I am... not sure how I got here. > [For a moment he is struck with the sudden urge to run to his parents and hide underneath them, but he already said that he was not a baby, and he wasn't, so he just tilts his head up proudly to cover for that momentary weakness.] < What are you? >
[Mail thinks the fluffing is funny, and he sort of wants to pat Elfangor, but he thinks that would probably make him mad or something. He settles for peering intently at him.]
Maybe you got lost. I could look out for you. Are you a kid? You sound like one. I'm eight.
[Elfangor blinks. Eight? But that's so old! Oh, but he's not home anymore, so maybe this place just has shorter years. Yes, that must be right. He'd never heard of a human before... He must be terribly far from home.]
< I don't remember getting lost. > [It comes out sounding like a pout, though he would vehemently deny it. He scuffs a hoof and flicks his tail anxiously.] < But... okay. >
I dunno where we are, either, [Mail admits. He's not too bothered by this. In all his favorite books, getting lost is the beginning of an adventure, and he thinks meeting an Anda-whatever totally counts as one.]
Hey, you've got lotsa fingers! [He holds up his own hand, with his (rather stubby) fingers splayed.]
[Elfangor looks from Mail's hand to his own curiously, then holds up his hand in a mirrored gesture, wiggling his fingers. He giggles, finding this so strange, but he's no longer all that worried since Mail admitted to not knowing where they are either. Maybe he's not so far from home after all then.]
[Even though he doesn't have a mouth, Elfangor still somehow manages to pull a face.] < Yes, but they're usually boring. Fixing mistakes in coding and stuff. > [SUDDEN EXCITEMENT.] < But if there was a game that simulated being a fighter pilot, that would be the best! I'm going to join the fleet and become a warrior and have my own fighter someday! >
Um. Hi. Have you seen a double-a battery?
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Wobbly as his skinny legs are, it's no surprise when he quite literally falls over himself in his over-excited state.]
< No... > [There may or may not be the mental equivalent of a teary sniffle lost in there.] < what kind of battery is that? >
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The kind that makes games go. [He holds up the battered GameBoy.]
Are you a puppy? You can talk!
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< Of course I can talk! I'm not a baby! ...What's a puppy? >
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[He crouches down, GameBoy and its woes forgotten, to inspect all four eyes.]
But you're not one. How're you talking in my head?
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[He points at Matt's mouth curiously. He knows he's not supposed to get so close to others, but this is interesting and he wants to know how that works.]
< Are you injured? Is that why you have a hole in your face? >
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[Ohhh, the fuzzy blue kid doesn't have one.]
It can do this, too! [He puts his tongue out.]
D'you have a name? Mine's Mail.
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Elfangor stares, and almost pokes at the funny-looking pink thing before catching himself, fur fluffing in embarrassment.]
< My name is Elfangor. >
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Haha, you're all fluffy now. [It's a neat trick, he thinks.] Are you from a diff'rent planet?
[It's not much of a leap, given the antennae, and Mail implicitly believes in magic and aliens and any number of things grownups think are silly.]
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< Yes, I'm an Andalite. Though I am... not sure how I got here. > [For a moment he is struck with the sudden urge to run to his parents and hide underneath them, but he already said that he was not a baby, and he wasn't, so he just tilts his head up proudly to cover for that momentary weakness.] < What are you? >
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[Mail thinks the fluffing is funny, and he sort of wants to pat Elfangor, but he thinks that would probably make him mad or something. He settles for peering intently at him.]
Maybe you got lost. I could look out for you. Are you a kid? You sound like one. I'm eight.
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< I don't remember getting lost. > [It comes out sounding like a pout, though he would vehemently deny it. He scuffs a hoof and flicks his tail anxiously.] < But... okay. >
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Hey, you've got lotsa fingers! [He holds up his own hand, with his (rather stubby) fingers splayed.]
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I bet you're really good at video games! D'you have those where you come from?
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