#kid!au

The mussed blue-haired child is scribbling furiously on the back of a research paper lying around with highlighter they've stolen from the body of a scientist lying around. They're so absorbed in their work that their gaze never leaves the page, as their tongue peeks out from underneath their top lip. Because of the amount of pressure they apply while coloring, they send tremors throughout their tiny frame with every movement, causing their glasses become displaced ever so slightly. They don't bother readjusting their now-oversized glasses until they're almost about to fall off their small face, at which point they'll raise their forearm to push them back into place, though they usually end up crooked.

Whereas Coomer doesn't mind reaching over and readjusting Bubby's glasses from time to time, making sure to do so quickly as not to block their view.

Coomer was the boy who sat next to Bubby, his legs close to his chest and his head resting on top of his knees. The kid had robotic limbs, which made him quite interesting. Bubby, of course, had heard about it before, as he overheard two researchers discussing a project involving "extendo-limbs," though they couldn't have predicted that the robotics department would finish their project so quickly. It seemed like they were going to get funding just a few days ago.

"So, what'cha drawing?" Coomer asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind their ear. "Space." They mutter quickly, afraid of losing concentration if they linger on the subject for more sentences, never taking their gaze away from their paper. Coomer makes a content sound before reaching over and picking up a highlighter to inspect. He held the office supply in front of him, slightly rotating it.

"So do you like space?"

Of course, Bubby adores space! It's vast and infinite in comparison to the stupid tube they're always in, even in the stupider research room. They know the place like the back of their hands. They know how many fluorescent lights are in the ceiling, who enters and exits through which doors. Hell! They know everyone's coffee preferences simply by observing. But space is different; it is constantly changing and expanding; no star is ever the same; new ones are formed and destroyed every millisecond.

"Yup." They answer flatly once again.

Coomer tilts his head, "So have you ever visited space?"

Their hand jerked for a split second as they couldn't help but snicker at Coomer's question. Of course, they haven't been to space! They've been trapped in a tube, for God's sake! In fact, while they despise Gordon for dragging them through the alien-infested facility, this has to be the longest time they've been out of their confinement. But there have been times when they were in their tube or undergoing additional medical tests that they allowed their minds to wander and imagine themselves in space. It usually helps clear their mind.

"I'm assuming no. Do you want to go to space?" he asks, putting down the highlighter and facing Bubby. This time, Bubby comes to a complete halt, dropping the highlighter in their hand before staring at Coomer, completely baffled. "What?"

"Would you like to go to space?" He reached over once more to adjust Bubby's glasses. "Of course, not right now, but maybe after we get out!"

They appreciate his ethusiasm, but they beg to differ.

"How? It's impossible."

"Well!" Coomer says with a toothy grin. "I don't believe it's impossible! Just look at what we've been through!"

He got a point. Now that they think about it, stealing one of Black Mesa's most valuable rockets should be easier than ever.

Coomer's hand suddenly moves to Bubby's, laying feebly on top of it. "So, what do you think? Would you like to go to space together?" Bubby couldn't help but smile.