@vortship continued from here
A mistake.
This whole thing is all just one, big, colossal failing.
Skoodge had gotten far too comfortable.
Far too used to life on Earth. Even as wild and hostile it has the tendency to be, he’d grown accustomed to it, to the many tiny things that made him want to stick around longer, the things that made him want to stay still in his one spot on the planet and relax.
He shouldn’t have let his guard down like this.
It’s only been a day.
One day.
That’s not too bad, is it?
No.
Skoodge stayed ugly and still in one spot like he always does, for one whole entire day, not doing anything, foolishly assuming that things were fine and dandy, and that, if they weren’t, then they would work out in the end, anyway. They usually do.
Wading through the cluttered floor like he’s stuck smack dab in the middle of a swamp, sunk into it from the waist down, he makes his way over to Hal.
Okay. That may be a slight exaggeration. In reality, the random scraps of junk and garbage only go halfway up to his boots. And that’s only in some of the less-good parts of the room.
But it’s still bad. This place needs a good scrubbing. Zim would cry if he saw it.
Probably.
Hopefully, Zim will get to see it, if he hasn’t already. They can double team the cleaning. At this point, Skoodge wouldn’t complain about getting his gloves all gross and mucked, wouldn’t mind getting bossed around, so long as it meant Zim was back.
“No Zim.” Not yet, at least. Skoodge is staying hopeful, even if it’s stupid of him, even if every other irken would suggest he cut his losses and move on.
When he finally reaches Hal, he lurches, tripping on some taxidermy thing – Why does she even have that? – and grasps her by the shoulders to steady himself.
“Check my PAK.” He speaks quick, rushed, with little thought and no prompting. “There’s a trial, he might be there –“ he continues to ramble on, regardless of whatever reaction Hal may be displaying. His hands tighten, their grasp becoming unpleasant. “Use your hacking whatevers and track the signal.” Finally, he releases her shoulders, stepping back. “Or – or maybe you can just skip the PAK and cut into some feed directly from Judgementia, I don’t know!” His free hands raise to his pinned antennae, and tug. It doesn’t look like it feels very good.
Even that sudden display of weakness doesn’t last long, and once it happens, it’s over, just as fast as his jumbled words have been thus far.
His hands speak with him now, flying about and articulating his words. “I’m no good for this kind of thing, but, but you are, right?” There are instances, occasionally, where one will jerk, or twitch. Where they’ll shake without his prompting. “I’ll let you get your grubby hands all over this –” he knocks his fist into his PAK, resulting in some heavy thuds. “– if it’ll help!”
He turns around, displaying his back to her, and spreads his arms wide. “So go ahead!”
