destruction is a form of creation

strip mario kart where the loser has to take off a piece of clothing each race

“Well, without previous knowledge, you are unable to perform any kind of experiment. Background information is just as important as following through on the experiment, because otherwise you wouldn’t even understand what you’re testing,” Rebecca explained, a bit ramble-y as she normally became when it came to science. 

“Is that so,” Caleb’s response was airy in tone with a roguish smirk causing slightly protruding dimples to match. “I, respectfully, disagree. I mean, yes, background information is of some importance, depending on potential safety hazards and all that fun. But if you were already familiar with the formula, it wouldn’t really be experimenting, would it? It would just be... doing.” Irises dropped to examine a loose thread on his shirt that his fingers had been toying with, detaching it with a firm yank, all the while his smirk had softened to an absentminded smile. “I think there’s no such thing as an experiment without a little risk of the unknown.”

“No, I don’t bother. Dayzie sounds the same whether you spell it like the flower or like me and I’d really rather not waste my time spelling it out just for them to spell it wrong anyways, because my mother is a genius and thought I needed to be different,” the brunette responded with a roll of her eyes, not seeming to mind that the other wasn’t paying much attention. She then raised an eyebrow at his next suggestion, a smile creeping onto her face. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s that one, Mr. Illuminati. Do you also think Tupac and Elvis are still alive? Or the government was involved in 9/11?” She teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“That’s... an odd way of going about it. From my observation, it seems more likely that people with differently spelled names would pull their hair out, screaming the correct spelling of their name ‘til they drop dead. But you just let it slide? Interesting. Have you always been like that?” The tone of his voice was slightly dull, a clear sign that he was still somewhat distracted with his own work. However, a single dark eyebrow quirked slightly at her questions that followed, the amusement interlaced with her words causing the faint hint of a smirk to touch his lips before he released an audible sigh. “Elvis, no. Tupac? Yes. He’s been living in my parents’ basement under a new alias for years.” Lips twitched slightly, curling and tugging back a bit more to form a more noticeable smirk, and icy blue hues then lifted from the screen of his laptop to focus on the brunette. Chiseled features were suddenly void of humour, though the smirk remained intact as he crossed his arms over his chest. “In all sincerity, though, the government was involved. The American defence system willfully failed. I mean, planes that lose contact with control towers are usually intercepted by fighter jets within ten minutes, yet those jetliners that struck New York were allowed to proceed without bother for more than half an hour, and the plane that supposedly crashed in Washington was’t intercepted for more than an hour and forty minutes after it was widely known that four planes had been hijacked.” A brief shrug of his broad shoulders, and he continued to say, “and that’s only one part of the conclusive theory.”

“Not going to a party? Not a big deal. I mean, roof-raisin’ parties packed with a bunch of sweaty bodies aren’t normally my scene either. However, willingly reading not one but three chapters on some wild science trip? Rivetingly strange. Making fake volcanos explode is pretty great, but anything beyond the hands-on experiments just...— I don’t get where the fun is in that.”

“Did you spell it out for him? Maybe he’s a good listener,” Caleb uttered without much thought, the majority of his attention evidently focused on the screen of his laptop while rough pads of his fingers flitted across the keyboard. “Or perhaps an overly attuned admirer, turned stalker, who you only noticed today. The possibilities are endless.”