o.o2

[oilyhands.livejournal.com]

[Pollution is sitting on the ground next to a printer that's putting out page after page. It's hooked up to his laptop, which he's poking at and has power because he says it does.]

Everyone tries so hard to reverse progress. [taptaptap at the keyboard] Clean coal really was a brilliant idea, I'll have to thank Sable next time I see him. Why the name of a thing makes such a difference, I'll never understand.

Comments

[oilyhands.livejournal.com]

Yes, but that seems to answer the question. Why red?

[mercwamouth]

Ever hear the joke about the ship captain with the brown pants?

[oilyhands.livejournal.com]

Wouldn't it be easier to wear something protective?

[mercwamouth]

But not as fun. Or sexy.

[oilyhands.livejournal.com]

[He snorts, and turns his attention to gathering up the pages from the still-printing printer. Instead of putting them into a neat stack, however, he's crumpling them until they make a nice sort of mound. The oil (and other things) from his skin is making some of the ink run, and the papers quickly come to resemble something left out in the rain and trodden upon multiple times.]

What do you do in your suit, other than bleed?

[mercwamouth]

Make other things bleed?

[oilyhands.livejournal.com]

Red would like you. [He pauses in his paper gathering to consider...] I'm not sure what she'd say about your outfit, though.

[mercwamouth]

That it's flattering and would totally make her want me?

[oilyhands.livejournal.com]

Probably not.