some project hail mary bits, copy-pasted from discord. no wetting but there is a conversation that alludes to using diapers thumbup
He's not sure why they let him have these.
Maybe the whole forcing him out of his home with no warning and making him live on a boat for the foreseeable future thing- that's gotta be something. Or they think he's a weirdo and just wanna keep him happy so he'll keep working. Either way, he's grateful. They even got him a 3 pack- three adult-sized pacifiers lined up neatly in plastic packaging atop the dumb science-pun shirts he requested and the NASA branded sweatpants. They even match the project's logo- orange, black, and light blue.
Stratt's the first person to see him use one, barging into his room when he overslept, nearly startling him off of his shelf- he caught himself, thankfully, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and mumbling around the soother that he'd be right down. She hadn't batted an eye. She's probably the one who got them, then.
There's pacifiers in his mission bag. Weird.
In the mess of suddenly having a roommate, Rocky finds his pacifiers.
"What this, question?" it taps, pointing at the offending blue object, now awkwardly crushed and skewed to one side after being rolled over.
"Oh that's- don't worry about that," Grace scoops it off the floor, frowning as he tries to slot its pieces back into place, "it's not like, mission important."
Grace startles, hooking his finger on the loop of the orange soother in his mouth.
"Uhh," he doesn't want to take it out of his mouth, but Rocky might not understand if he doesn't, and he really doesn't want to have to explain this more than once. He reluctantly pulls it out and wipes it on his shirt, "yeah, three. Well, two now, since you ran one over, but- yeah."
"You said was not mission important."
"Well, no, but it's me important, so."
"S'a soother," he says, shrugging, embarrassed despite the fact that
Rocky has no clue that he's technically too old for this stuff, "pacifier, whatever. It's nice to suck on."
Rocky considers this- says something in his rock language, then, "need word, need word."
Grace sighs and gets his laptop.
"You are upset question?"
"Not at all buddy," Grace answers, shooting it a smile, "let's figure this out."
He sniffles, rolling over to see Rocky standing over him.
"You are awake question?"
"Yeah," he answers, "I'm awake."
"You need soother question?"
He sort of regrets making that Rocky's word for it. Somehow it's more embarrassing than just calling it a pacifier.
He's bundled up and warm, for once. He would like his soother but he doesn't want to get up.
"Can you get it for me?" he asks, already knowing and childishly dreading the answer.
"Can not," Rocky answers. The robotic voice is as even as ever, but Rocky's tone is slightly gentler. "Rocky is sorry."
He spots her across the dining room, dipping in and out for a meal and two coffees that are already set aside for her. One blink and he missed it- she's already heading back into the hallway. He stumbles out of his seat, (rather un-gracefully. Haha), and practically jogs to catch up.
"Stratt-" he calls, waves even though she doesn't turn around "-Stratt, do you have a minute?"
"I am very busy, Dr Grace," she answers briskly, "I will have time for you in three hours."
"Okay," he says, "I don't- I don't need an entire meeting, I just need a minute."
She stops and turns to face him. A scientist passes them in one direction, a team of builders passes them in the other- a tight squeeze in the hallway. Stratt checks her watch and sips her coffee.
She looks at him expectantly. He clears his throat and glances behind him.
"Could we slip into a side room or something I don't want to have this conversation in the hallway," he chuckles awkwardly.
"Privately?" she asks, and at his nod, shakes her head, "I'm afraid every room on this vessel is occupied, this is as private as we can get."
"Right, right, okay," He puts his hands on his hips, looks to the ceiling, then the wall, then the opposite corner of the floor to avoid eye contact. Drops his arms to his sides when an engineer nudges past.
He leans in as much as he dares and lowers his voice, "if you're going to make me wear- them-" he gestures vaguely, hoping she'll know what he's talking about without him having to say it "-could you deliver them a little more privately than just leaving them on my cot?"
Stratt's face does not change, though he's sure his is stained pink. She lowers her voice as well and answers, "Dr Grace, do you think you are the only person aboard this vessel with stress induced incontinence?"
He clears his throat. Resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and ends up pinching the bridge of his nose, so halfway there. His face burns and he sighs through his nose.
He knows a few of the symptoms, and the odds if it developing. Drops his hand. "No, probably not."
"We have a bulk supply for nearly a third of the population of this ship. No one will make fun of you," she assures him, "but yes, I will request that the deliveries are made privately."
He bites his bottom lip, face still burning, and nods after a second.
He nods, offers a tight-lipped smile, "yeah- yeah, that's all."
She returns the nod and turns away, "have a good day, Dr Grace."
