the simplest requests [r]

[MARS]

This was unacceptable. Un-fucking-acceptable. It was already enough that he had exiled himself to this ball of water and dirt, but he couldn't even get a proper personal cook here. Sure, there was the diner nearby that served some of the most mouth-watering bacon cheeseburgers his alien tastebuds ever experienced, but he missed the luxury of having a personal chef on his beck and call to make him whatever he pleased at whatever time. "Fucking hell, Remy! You can't even make a decent chili dog?!" That harsh yell that boomed throughout the dorms was followed by a crash as he easily flipped over the small table in his living room, sending plates falling down to the ground. Remy was not a personal chef.

He huffed to himself in what was clearly a royal pout as he planted himself on the living room couch, slamming his combat boots onto the over-turned coffee table, his muscled biceps across his chest. While it wasn't new that he had tended to yell at explode at Remy at any given time, it was new that he suddenly started asking her to cook. It was like he continually upped the ante, constantly asking for more and more. Surprisingly enough? Remy usually listened. "Some assistant you are. Though....I suppose it's only natural. Your creator didn't have as refined tastes as I do..." Mars said to himself with a wistful sigh, as if he could perfectly understand Remy having served a clearly inferior master. In his eyes, she had moved onto much better things being his servant.

Okay, correction. Remy was not technically his "servant". Remy was simply a girl who had Mars had taken a real shining to. He had practically "claimed" her as his own and found himself dragging her everywhere, barking orders all the time. While the young girl always made an snide remark or rebellious reponse, she almost always complied with his requests. If Mars wasn't such a terribly self-absorbed individual, he might notice that she seemed to get some kind of kick out of it. Alas, Mars assumed that it was simply because she felt secretly honored to serve him. "Though, you've almost always complied to my orders with satisfactory results, so I suppose you've earned some degree of forgiveness..." A satisfied smirk was etched across his face, as if he was extremely pleased with himself. Why shouldn't he be? He was simply admiring just how wonderful of a king he was to her.

[/blockquote]

[BABYDOLL]

The little doll was frustrated. It wasn't easy, bending over the pot for an hour and some change, trying to work out whatever the fuck chili was and decide if it was made properly because Master had never had a hankering for the stuff, preferring to eat things like spaghetti (she was good at spaghetti, why hadn't Mars wanted that?) and other endless variations of pasta, it had been his favorite, and she had known how to make that. But no, his Royal Motherfucking Highness had decided to crave chili dogs- and why were they called dogs, when dog wasn't involved in the construction at all, from what she could tell? - so here she was, boiling hotdogs in one pan and attempting to construct chili in the other, and after all that work, when she had proudly presented her efforts to him, this is what she was repaid with?

Oh hell no. Not. Acceptable.

Fire blazed in the tiny girl's eyes, and she narrowed them at the infernal prince, crossing slender arms over her chest. "Fucking hell yourself, you big jackass!" she replied forcefully, puffing out her chest and her cheeks and drawing herself up to a not at all impressive height- because she had recently learned how to rebel, and she liked it. A lot. Too much, maybe. Plates scattered across the ground and she felt herself twitch, a jerk of her fingers sending a cloth sailing obediently into her hand as she called the threads to her, and she immediately fell to her knees, stacking and organizing and coaxing the stains up out of the threads of the carpet until she was satisfied it was properly neatened and she discarded the lot of it, turning to glare at the boy. "My creator was perfect, you can't even begin to compare." And maybe that was total- complete- bullshit, but she spoke the barb anyway, turning her back to him petulantly, the edges of her skirt fluttering as she turned- because she had been constructed to be the perfect little schoolgirl, after all, and as such even on off days had a tendency to gravitate toward clothing that evoked it. She was a walking, living, breathing ideal - for a certain kind of twisted individual, and she really would have been completely perfect at what she was made for if her creator hadn't been a little bit too good at his job and overpowered her, creating a masochistic, unstable supervillain in the making instead.

She tossed a glare back over her shoulder as the boy spoke again, hair flying as she whirled back around to stop over to him, prodding him in the chest with one finger. "I serve in an exemplary fashion, and you would do well to remember that before I just quit entirely! she spat out, all snark and spitfire. She tilted her head up to glare into his eyes, biting down on the lower lip as she did so, stamping one foot in what was sure to be a comical manner, green eyes flashing. "Now say thank you, damnit!

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[MARS]

Compare? Compare?! Did she just imply in some small minuscule possible way that anyone could ever match up to him in anything? The very notion made his eyebrow twitch in anger and had this been anyone else, he would've punched them in the stomach hard enough to cough up fluids. His fingers tightened around his arms and he looked back at her with an equally pissed off snarl, his feet banging on the table as if to physically broadcast his anger. "Your creator was not perfect for the simple fact he wasn't me. And it's an utterly foolish thing for you to think. You'd do best to dispel that notion as fantasy." Mars snapped back with a practical bark, looking up so that his steel-grey eyes met her green ones.

He looked down at her cleaning up the mess and some part of him felt the tiniest part of guilt for making her do so. The instant he felt that he was also hit with a bout of confusion. It was only on this planet was he introduced to the idea that someone wouldn't want to be his servant. The royal family was usually treated with utmost worship and dignity; someone not wanting to appease them was a very rare occurrence. He cocked his head at her, trying to wonder exactly what she meant to him and why. Most of him wanted to simply boss her around the way he usually did, but another wanted to protect her from harm. Such strange conflicting feelings. They angered him. He was too busy staring off into space before he noticed the girl was suddenly right in his face. Her slender finger poked at his chest and it sparked a reflex.

Mars hand suddenly shot out to grip her wrist tightly; he instantly fought the urge to snap it in his grip. That didn't stop her from stomping her tiny feet into the ground and barking snark dripping wet with syrupy spite. "I'm sorry. You must have mistaken me for someone lesser. I don't thank anyone." He growled back as he stood, his grip still tight on her wrist, something between a smirk and a snarl adorning his face. Recently, Remy had started to become much more defiant in a verbal sense; she didn't simply follow his orders. He also received a healthy dose of sarcasm and indignation along with it. "You should thank me for even allowing you to serve me. Never presume I should thank you. Ever." Some of him wanted her to respond. Poorly. He wanted her to snap even more, wanted her to fly in a rage and attempt to hurt him. Some weird part of him had actually begun to enjoy when she was angry.

[/blockquote]

[BABYDOLL]

He turned on her with a snarl, and it made something deep and dark inside her burn and boil, a heat that was anger and also something else coiling through her, and her eyes flashed again as she stared him down, unfazed, but privately quite please with his reaction, the provocation she'd succeeded in. "He's a thousand times better than you! A million even! And I liked him WAY better!" she insisted, digging herself into quite the little hole as she spoke, and despite this she really didn't think twice about cleaning, falling to her knees to scrub and straighten, because that was her job, after all. Remy was a doll, a servant, a creation made to serve in a number of ways, each a bit more messed up than the last, when you got down too it, because her creator had certainly not been PG-13 in his mindset. And maybe some girls, when granted a bit more sentience than was intended, would have felt strange about the fact that they had come into the world to be a glorified vacuum cleaner slash cook slash sex doll, but not Remy. That was the oddness of her, it was simply something she had accepted and moved on from, filing the information away as a fact and thinking little of it. Because what other experience did she have to compare it too, really? Up until recently, she hadn't even known life outside of her laboratory and wherever her creator had taken her.

It was outside her realm of experience, the strange things she had begun feeling for the boy. She was compelled by something in his arrogance to listen to him, to do as he said, because that was simply how she was- but that didn't mean she had to like it, not one bit. And yet, there was something about him, something dangerous and magnetic and it brought her back time and time again- even when she promised herself that, with her newfound independence, and the reassurance from her peers and teachers that she didn't in fact HAVE to do anything she didn't want too, she didn't have to listen to him or do what he said. And yet, she wanted too. Something strange in her craved the approval he never gave out, wanted him to be proud- or hell, at least satisfied.

He grabbed her wrist and she tugged back at it, to little avail, something flaring inside her and setting her nerves on fire, eyes narrowing again and she tugged, tugged again. "Let go of me right now!" she demanded, jerking at her wrist again and huffing slightly. "I'm not your property!" the words were unfamiliar, because up until now, she had in fact been property, essentially, and the fact that she wasn't was new. She wasn't sure exactly how to deal with it, what it meant for her and the way she had to operate in the world. The confines of her existence had been twisting, changing, and she didn't like it. 'I don't have to thank you for anything! You've never done a thing for me!" she retorted harshly, because she had learned about gratitude, about thanks, and that was how it worked. "But I do everything for you, all the time, and that is when people are supposed to say thank you!" she bit out, as if she was giving some sort of strange etiquette lesson, her free hand moving to shove him in the shoulder with the best of her strength, to emphasize the point.

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[MARS]

He had no idea why she had to blatantly lie to him like that; they both knew her current existence was much better than her past. Surely life as some kind of trumped cooking-cleaning sex doll designed for someone with a underage child fetish had to be less favorable than one serving under a righteous prince with might and charm. What in the world was there not to be thankful for? "Oh, come on! You know full well that's a goddamn lie. Don't see why you're so loathe to just admit it." Mars said with something between an exasperated sigh and a chuckle, his grip on her wrist still as tight as ever. The alien had no intention on hurting her; the very thought of her being hurt angered him to the utmost degree, even if he wasn't entirely sure why it evoked that emotion. She was confusing. Utterly confusing and he couldn't pry himself away from her.

Her pushes were weak in comparison to his rather sturdy body, feeling like minor pinpricks from an annoying insect. Her words were evoking emotions that he wasn't entirely fond of, unsettling ones that weren't easily defined. He hated that. "Nothing to thank me for? So, I assume you liked being pushed and knocked around by every fool with half a brain?" Remy knew what he was referring to. Those days before he came onto the scene, those days when she'd be knocked around and manipulated by every schmuck who realized what a colossal push-over Remy was. Before then, she was meek and easily swayed. Then Mars came.

"I was the one who made those retards back off. Otherwise, god knows what they'd convince you to do. You should be thanking me." There it was again. The fucking "thank" word. It was a new concept for both of them, moreso for Remy. She was rather meek in the beginning, blindly following his orders. However, when she learned that it wasn't socially acceptable for Mars to just boss her around himself, she became rebellious. Defiant. She now flipped off into a rage. Resistant. And, for the love all that was holy, Mars loved every second of it. It evoked feelings that were inappropriate to talk about outside of private confines. ".....Ugh. You think I don't notice how much you do? Of course I fucking do. You'll be damned, however, if you think I'll be thanking you every damn time." Mars said as he let go of her hand and fall back down onto the couch, his arms resting behind his head. He couldn't see why she couldn't see that he was thankful for everything she did. He just didn't know how to express it.

"....Your....attempts at making the chili dogs was admirable, I'll give you that. Inadequate, but admirable." See? He could totally do this "thankful" thing.

[/blockquote]

[BABYDOLL]

Remy was accustomed to roughness, and the fingers bruising around her wrist hardly phased her- after all, she was built to last, built for durability. The boy made too much sense when he spoke, and she scowled darkly up at him, because it was true. It was a lie, and she herself was entirely unsure as to why she clung to it. Maybe because she had too, because something deep down in her makeup insisted she at least try to believe her late creator was ideal- even when faced with this alien, with his strange ways of speaking, and the odd way he made her feel; confused and out of her depth, and that was something she hated quite a bit. “Because you suck thats why.” she muttered in reply, and it was a shitty comeback, and she huffed slightly, jerking at her wrist again. “And anyway I don’t have to admit anything I don’t want too, even if its true, so there. I can lie to you all I want you’re not my master.” She was effectively admitting everything, but that didn’t really bother her. It was more the freedom to choose she wanted to demonstrate, and the smug grin on her face indicating she figured she had done just that.

Remy was a little defective. There were a lot of ways it manifested, ways in which she had been a little bit more than what her creator had bargained for. But there was one thing in which she had always excelled, and that was subservience. It turned out, being created, constructed, raised and conditioned to believe that blind obedience was simply what one did- particularly when they were you- made you rather prone to it, even when you found yourself without your original master. Once he had died, and she had been picked up by the Young Masters almost immediately thereafter, she had been adrift, set afloat in a world she didn’t understand. And when her peers realized she would do, well, just about anything they asked, obviously she had been thoroughly taken advantage of, though she’d had no idea it was anything less than normal at the time. And then Mars came, and he was loud and pushy and seemed to feel like she didn’t need to do what they said- just what he said. And she had been- and still was, really- torn between gratitude and confusion. Because she wasn’t sure she wanted to listen to ANYONE, anymore, since that was apparently an option, but at the same time, here she was trailing along after him despite herself. Still, as he spoke, she had to concede he had a point, and she regarded him with an odd mix of disdain and gratitude. “Fine then!” she blurted out, her eyes narrowing, and she rose on tip toe to brush her lips against his cheek- she’d seen it on a film the other day, and it appeared to be a way to say thank you that had made the male protagonist smile quite a bit for such a silly, fleeting thing. “Thank you.” she added as her heels thumped back to the ground.

His words set her lips quirking up slightly, just so, and she almost pouted as he removed his hand from her wrist, swirling her hand counterclockwise, then back again, to replenish the flow of blood to her fingers, flexing lightly at the sudden absence of contact. As he spoke her mood shifted dramatically, and she thumped herself down onto the couch beside him, landing lightly and leaning back into the cushions. “You can thank me...a third of the time. I think that will do nicely.” she decided arbitrarily, because she really wasn’t THAT picky, she thought. glancing sidelong at the boy as he spoke, and grinning. “You are welcome.” she replied to his thanks, though she wrinkled her nose slightly. “I think you should probably apologize too, for being rude. But I might let that slide this time.” she decided aloud, because rude was still new to her as well, but she got the feeling if she tried to hold the blue haired boy accountable for it they’d never get anything done.

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[MARS]

The alien smirked in satisfaction, having successfully quelled this petty argument before it escalated into one of the room-shaking arguments that they had on occasion. It was with those one wondered why the hadn't begun beating the brains out of each other on a daily basis. How their relationship even worked was some type of twisted miracle of psychology, one forged on dominant/submissive undertones and constant clashing of ideals followed by awkward half-apologies. It was almost as if both of them had Stockholm Syndrome, one feeling like they couldn't leave the other despite their relationship bordering on toxic on occasion. A beautiful friendship, it was.

"You don't have to admit it. I know for a fact that I'm a hundred times more the man than your master ever was. I am comfortable in that self-knowledge alone." Mars responded with what seemed like some type of strange friendly yet condescending gaze, a mixture of disdain and joy. He was always intrigued by why she defended her master so vehemently even when it was proven fact she was nothing more to him an artificial fetish maid. Alas, women were confusing and contradictory if he had begun to learn anything. Poor creatures.

The prince was jolted from his deep and revelatory thoughts when he felt the brush of warm lips against his cheek. It was strange. Pleasant. Sent goosebumps down his arms. It was shocking. Mars froze up for a minute as if he couldn't recall who did such a thing until he looked at Remy and his brain put the pieces together. She kissed him. Kiss. She.kissed.him. It practically sent his mind into five-alarm mode and he was torn between tossing her across the room and responding with some absurd urge to make-out. He decided neither option was beneficial in the long run and settled on just shock. "W-What in the world was that? If that's what you do anytime someone thanks you, I don't even want to think what would happen if I started complimenting you." Mars chuckled in an attempt to quickly hide the pieces of his shattered guard. Just when he thought he understood this small woman, she did something to dispel that notion.

"Let? You don't let me do anything. Don't start thinking all this "thanking" has elevated your status somehow." His hand went out to push her lightly, even if he was version of light could be rather hard. It was meant to be a playful push, a sign that despite him treating her like shit on many occasions, he had something remotely similar to care for the girl. Or maybe he just didn't want to break her. Who knows? He looked down at his stomach when it grumbled loudly, a practical lion's roar, a beast begging to be fed immediately.

Realizing that her failed attempts had not resulted in actual food, he frowned. He was hungry. This was to be fixed. "Get up. I recall you saying you could make pasta. You will....will...you will teach me how to make this dish." It was an order that was delivered with some hesitance; he never asked to be taught anything since he arrived on Earth. People offered, but he never asked. It was beneath him. Still, he once saw a program on the television that showed a somewhat heart-warming scene in which the female and male protagonist cooked a dish together, enjoying it greatly. Those people were television stars, and since television stars seemed to have some type of status on this planet, he figured they must've known what they were doing.

[/blockquote]

[BABYDOLL]

”Well...then...fine. Fine then, you just sit all happy in your stupid self knowledge, and leave me alone. Because maybe he wasn’t better than you persay, but I still like him best. So there.” she decided petulantly, which was also probably untrue. But the issue was, she was coming to realize, that there were so many different ways to like someone. She had liked her creator for creating her, for giving her a purpose, feeding her and clothing her and putting a roof over her head, and keeping her occupied with training and so forth. She liked Mars for different reasons, she thought, because half of the former were simply inapplicable, and there were also new things she liked him for. Things she wasn’t sure about. Things like the way he flipped tables and the way he grabbed her wrist, and that haughty gleam in his eye that made her want to slap him and pounce on him all at once. He was confusing, she decided, as were all kinds of like, and they were therefor to be ignored.

His reaction was not quite what she had expected, and she huffed slightly, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “Well I saw it on TV, I think its a kiss.” she defended, and as he continued with a laugh she tilted her head to the side a bit. “I don’t know. I think I’m supposed to kiss you more, if you do that. There are lots of kinds of kisses.” she replied, quite frankly, because what else was there but openness. Understanding what she was meant to do with regards to her creator was easy- he told her, and she did it. Mars was different. She didn’t have to do everything he said. She just...wanted too- but she also, in an odd way, wanted him to recognize that she did it because she wanted too and not because she had too, not because she felt compelled to. It was all rather confusing, and it gave her a headache to think about it. “On the television, when the girl did that he smiled. You’re not smiling, so I did it wrong.” she decided, and leaned over slightly to peer at him. “Why was it unsatisfactory? Why didn’t you smile?” she demanded, because she hated- HATED- to do things wrong, little perfectionist she was.

It was her turn to catch his wrist this time, as he pushed her slightly, and slender fingers wove around his wrist, pulling at him. “You’re not a prince here, Mars, we’re on the same level.” she pointed out- and that was a conclusion she’d come to all on her own, quite sure it was true. They’d been learning about international laws- and how to break them- and nothing ever said the world had to obey you if you were from somewhere else. “Your sovereignty is meaningless here.” she declared, breaking off to laugh as his stomach rumbled rather spectacularly. When he spoke next, she regarded him rather oddly, but nodded just the same, tugging him by the wrist towards the kitchen, moving to rummage through cabinets to bring out the necessary items. ‘Well first...we should start water for the pasta boiling. And also cut up the vegetables for the sauce. Tomatoes and onions and things.” She murmured, moving to set about those tasks, a little hesitantly- she’d never taught anything before, and she didn’t understand the motivation behind it. If he wanted to learn to do it himself, did that mean he was going to get rid of her? That he wouldn’t just...ASK her? She privately decided that if this appeared to be the case, she would teach him to make the worst pasta in the world, so that he’d have to ask her for help.

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[MARS]

She persisted about the kiss and just the thought of it put him on edge again; he had to fight down emotions that threatened to erode his self-control and make him do things he might regret in the long run. Why did she have to keep going on about it? It was like the more and more she learned from outside sources, the more complicated their relationship had become. It introduced new elements, new variable and new factors that completely changed how they looked at each other.

What was once a girl he looked at as simply a side-kick or servant, he had now begun to value greatly. She had slowly become something akin to an equal in his eyes, a thing he appreciated as opposed to being disposable like everyone else. She was necessary. She was important. And it freaked him the fuck out. "The kiss was fine! Your lips and technique were satisfactory, I was pleased. Now enough about the kiss. It no longer interests me." Damn it! He complimented her. Again. What was getting into him? Slowly, he had become less harsh and demanding of her, now even thanking her on occasion. He never thanked anyone, but things appeared to have changed. He was afraid she might get the impression she should do it more often. The even more terrifying thought? He didn't really mind.

Mars was almost about to retort angrily to her comment about his royal status, an always sensitive subject with him, before she suddenly yanked him across the room and into the kitchen. For someone who seemed so frail, she had a surprisingly strong grip herself when she tried. She should try more often. He still wanted to respond about this sovereignty, but before he knew it she shoved various utensils into his hands and began directing him. A slight twitch of his eyebrow indicated that her ordering him around for once didn't go over too well for him, but he shoved that down and got to work. "It seems simple enough. I can't possibly see why this task would be too difficult..." Mars murmured as he gathered the vegetables, stacking them next to each other neatly, taking pride in performing this small task. He was better than he thought.

"You know....I am still as much a prince here as I was there. It's all a matter of attitude..." Mars said with something that could almost be interpreted as a pout; the boy was highly offended that she would even suggest, let alone openly state, that he was anything less than royalty. Why else would she follow him so willingly unless he had the air of a true prince?

[/blockquote]

[BABYDOLL]

Remy regarded him carefully, not exactly certain what she was thinking. “Satisfactory?” she repeated pensively, before biting at her lip in thought. That wouldn’t do at all. Satisfactory was definitely not up to snuff- she wanted a better compliment than that, though honestly if you asked her she wouldn’t have been able to give you a reason why. She had kissed before, of course, she wasn’t a child - or was she? it was hard to say, she existed outside the confines of such things, the eternal conundrum- but that had been different. Those had been times when she was told, instructed to the action. This time she had kissed him because she wanted too, she realized with a start, and that was a new and unfamiliar thing, and since when did she do strange and impulsive things just because she felt like it? She rather liked the feeling of it- both the freedom and the kiss itself, and she finally snapped from her reverie to look up at him. “I’ll practice and become better than satisfactory.” she declared, sort of a far disconnect from the path of conversation, but for some reason this kissing had become important to her.

She tossed the thought aside in favor of a new challenge- cooking with the strange prince. She loaded his arms with utensils and pots and pans, delighting in the strange feeling of instruction. As the boy murmured, she pushed a knife into his hand, instructing him to get to cutting, and began filling a pot with the base of the sauce. There was a flash of something in her eye, something petulant ad panicked. Because if he learned about cooking and cleaning, what would she be good for- especially when she was only satisfactory at kissing, evidently, and what else did she have to offer? She had awkward jokes and a quick wit, but that was hardly the basis on which one kept a girl around, she thought. She had to remain useful, and thus her plan began. She pulled a few spices from the cabinet, at random, dumping them into the sauce with abandon- though she siphoned out a portion of the base and set it aside- because she’d have to make a good batch later, once she’d convinced him he was the worst cook who ever lived. “Well your attitude is terrible and offputting, thats why no one talks to you but me.” she pointed out, stirring a healthy heaping of cinnamon into the spaghetti sauce, deciding to add some chili power, a bit of honey, some cloves, some garlic, a boatload of vanilla, anything she could get her hands on. “Now dump the vegetables in.” she instructed when she was satisfied with the manner in which he had cut them.

She dumped the noodles into the now boiling water, leaning back to examine her handiwork with a careful eye. There was no way the spaghetti would be at all edible, he’d definitely not be able to get rid of her now. It felt like a weight had lifted somewhat from her shoulders, and she grinned widely. Deciding to test her newfound power, she whirled on him bright eyes dancing with something decidedly mischievous. “Now you neaten up after yourself. Hurry, hurry, put everything back in the fridge, so the rest of the vegetables don’t get all rotted and nasty.” she instructed, making a shooing movement with her hands as a smirk quirked at her lips.And maybe she should have been a bit more careful about ordering around a tempermental, knife wielding, super powered alien prince, but Remy was never very careful to begin with.

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[MARS]

There she was with the kiss again! What was her problem? The kiss alone was off-putting enough, an action that practically obliterated all coherent thought in Mars's head for close to a second, but the last thing he needed was her constantly prodding her about the quality of the kiss. Did she not already compliment her? He said it was satisfactory, damn it! "Fine! That is what you will do. You will strive to perfect your kisses. I expect a much better performance next time." Mars said haughtily in a sloppy last-minute attempt to save face and shift the momentum of the conversation back to his favor. He didn't need her thinking he had gone soft or something of the sort. That wouldn't do one fucking bit.

He watched Remy intently as he began to dump various ingredients into the pots and pans, each one more outlandish than the last. Anyone with real common sense would be able to tell that these various components did not make a good pasta sauce and would be calling shenanigans right about now. Of course, Mars's own self-absorbed attitude could have a tendency to override any type of common sense. He never considered the possibility that Remy would willingly disobey him and attempt to even follow his directions incorrectly on purpose. That would be just an inconceivable amount of deceit, something she apparently wasn't capable of. Or that's what he thought.

So, he watched her dump a metric fuck-ton of honey into the pasta, amazed when he should've been horrified. "Interesting...honey. I suppose that's fitting to give it a slight sweetness to it. Exotic. I like it." Mars said to himself as he nodded sagely as if he could perfectly understand why she added the ingredients she did, clearly channeling a master chef at the moment. The alien quickly moved to dump the vegetables into the boiling pot, watching them sink to the bottom in satisfaction. Who would've thought cooking was so damn simple? Contrary to what Remy might be thinking, he had no real intention of learning how to cook himself. Why would he do that with Remy around? No, he was asking simply because he had theorized it might be a good way for them to bond. Make her realize that he did care about what she did by learning how to do it himself. He cared. He actually fucking cared.

"I know, I know! I am not some simpleton. I can do such basic and obvious tasks without your instruction," Mars barked back, feeling some kind of strange indignation. Was it his own imagination or was she actually ordering him around this time? It was a foreign feeling, one that he wasn't entirely sure he was equipped to understand. He didn't like it. Not one fucking bit.

[/blockquote]

[BABYDOLL]

Remy grinned up at him as he spoke out, haughty and a little bit haphazard, though she barely noticed. Something in her was hung up on the words ‘next time’. She rather liked the idea of that, she thought- a next time. In the meantime, she needed to find someone to practice with her, and she scrunched her lips up in though momentarily. Would a girl suffice? She knew some girls kissed girls- her creator had found that intriguing for some reason, and it seemed to crop up among the male population occasionally as the subject of fascination, but she rather thought in order to practice properly, she should find a boy. “Good, good.” she murmured slightly in aquiecense to the boy’s words, still contemplating, mulling her options over in her mind. “I suppose the boy down the hall in 21C will be an adequate stand in, for practices.” she mused aloud, glancing over at the blue haired alien critically. “You appear to possess roughly the same build, and have comparable lip shape. “ The way she approached it might have seemed bizarre, clinical to anyone else- but she HAD been raised by a scientist, and a mad one at that, and so it was perhaps to be expected. She leaned forward slightly, as if in inspection, before nodding with satisfaction. Yes, 21C would do nicely...though she supposed she ought to figure out his name. Or did you need names, to kiss? She couldn’t quite remember. This would mandate some research.


Remy was trying very, very hard not to laugh, instead nodding sagely in return as the boy observed and commented upon her truely atrocious machinations, and she couldn’t help but be elated at how very well this was all turning out. As she watched the sauce congeal oddly, stirring the vegetables into the mix, she noted it looked positively awful, and would no doubt be near inedible. She was so good at plans, she reflected happily to herself. Now she’d be useful forever.

She was entirely too thoroughly wrapped up in her plot to notice any sort of undercurrent to the situation. She assumed the motivation had to do with her less than exemplary cooking, and her merely satisfactory kiss. As such, she assumed that, were she to improve her kissing- with the help of 21C...was his name Roger, maybe? Ronald? Roderick?- and prove that she had invaluable cooking skills he couldn’t hope to emulate, then he simply wouldn’t feel the need to learn to cook things and take over her role. He grumped at her and she only grinned. “Well how was I to know, you hadn’t done it yet. If it was so obvious and basic, why was everything still out on the counter, huh?” she accused, something playful in the lilt of her voice as she waved her spoon at him accusatorily.

Turning back, she shifted a cloth across the counter quickly, stirring and gathering and slowly, so slowly, assembling two plates of what could only nominally be called spaghetti, surreptitiously adding the proper sauce to the pan left int he back corner burner of the stove untouched. She handed one plate to the boy with a positively innocent grin. “Lets see how you did, shall we?” she queried innocently, all bright eyes and smiles, eager to see her plan come to fruition.

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[MARS]

Rage. He was used to it; it had consumed most of his life since his father's execution and he had learned to embrace it fully instead of trying to control it like people suggested he should. He channeled it and unleashed it when it was necessary. Right now? It was necessary. Alot of Remy's words became blurred out and buzzed, as if someone had turned down the universal volume to 1 and fucked around with the bass and treble. The only general message he inferred from the jumble of words coming out from Remy's mouth was this : "I'm going to kiss a boy that isn't you.". That's all he really needed for him to squeeze the handle of the knife hard enough that it snapped in two and the bladed part launched into the air, sinking itself firmly into the ceiling.

" NO!" The word came bursting out of his throat and he couldn't have stopped it if he tried. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "There will be no need to kiss that fool down the hall. His presence is not required. He's inferior to me in every possible way and it's disrespectful for you to assume anyone could stand in for me." A hand went up to wipe the sweat off his face slowly, as if he was trying to wipe off his momentarily angered facial expression as well. Composure. He needed to gain some. Otherwise, he'd lose it again.

Turning around, he faced the small girl and stared at her critically, as if he was also scanning her face for certain traits, which he was. His eyes locked onto her lips and he nodded decisively, as if he had come to a major and critical decision in his mind. "You will practice on me. I must oversee your progress. Besides, as I said, that boy is lesser than me and we cannot have you practicing on a lesser being." He tried his best to hide the jealousy hidden under his words.

Jealousy. Jealousy? Was he actually jealous? Normally, it shouldn't really matter who she made out with, right? Why was this so terribly important to him though? The thought of her lips brushing against anyone's but his own made his fists clench and his telekinetics charge up, moving stray objects around him slightly. "After this dinner, we shall engage in practice. You will have perfected kissing by week's end, I assure you," Mars declared firmly as if he was now boasting; he managed to turn something that was mostly about Remy into something totally about his own prodigal skill in anything that ever existed ever.

Turning towards the pot of pasta sauce, he figured it was about time to taste their creation. Upon staring at the rather strange looking sauce, one would assume he'd be able to put something clearly wrong about the concoction. Of course that would be under the assumption he wasn't an arrogant moron. That would be a horrible assumption.

Leaning forward, he sniffed the pasta almost professionally, as if it was a master-work. "The smell of perfection. Just my being here has elevated your skills to Olympic heights. Let us partake, yes?" He grinned cockily as he took the ladle and scooped some sauce up, sipping it gingerly. It took less than five seconds for his grin to be wiped away and replaced with one between shock and disgust. Spitting the sauce out almost immediately, he coughed and hacked. "W-What in the fuck?! Agh! What is this crap? It tastes horrendous!" The prince threw the ladle across the room with enough force that the handle burrowed a hole into the wall. Clearly, his presence wasn't as magical as he thought.

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[BABYDOLL]

Remy found herself staring at the boy with something like surprise. No,not even like surprise- just surprise, pure and simple and overwhelming. “No?” she parroted confused, her head tilting to the side slightly. She blinked, perking a brow upwards and sighing. “Yes, yes, everyone in a hundred mile radius is very aware you’re superior, Mars. But I have to practice on someone.” She attempted to reason with him, because surely it made sense to her, at the very least. But when he turned to face her, something in his gaze was predatory, possessive, a tiny bit unsettling, a shiver racing its way down her spine. She noted with some interest as the objects around them began to shift, just so. But it was the boy’s words that drew her attention the most, made green eyes widen fractionally- because this was quite possibly an even better outcome than she could have imagined, and something about the idea of it sent nerve impulses crashing beneath her skin, making her feel strange and tingling and alive. She swallowed hard, biting at her lip as she nodded her assent- because really, as if there was a chance she wouldn’t? “Okay, I’ll practice kissing with you then.” she agreed easily, and she would have liked to say it was her plan all along- but it wasn’t, just a very, very happy random happenstance.

His fists clenched and he began to boast, and she wondered vaguely what the emotion lacing his tone was, something held firmly in check, but foreign to her nonetheless, and she shifted toward to examine him carefully, tilting her head until their noses nearly brushed, eyes searching. “Are you that good at kissing then?” she questioned, her tone light and professional, as if she were asking about his qualifications for a job. “Because now, I’m not sure if you’re even a good judge of kissing. How much kissing have you done, anyway?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly, skepticism lacing her tone. “I’ve heard 21C has done lots of kissing, and lots of sex, so perhaps he’d be better qualified for practicing and for evaluation, than you are.” she goaded the other, because she wanted to see more of that emotion, and bringing up the other boy seemed to have brought it out in the first place. And maybe poking at the draconic temper of the boy was a thoroughly terrible idea, but then, she really never did know when she was supposed to stop.

Remy stepped back slightly as he went for the sauce, bracing herself for the reaction- it was better than she expected, and she stifled a grin against her hand, moving to pretend to try the sauce, before grimacing exaggeratedly- there was no way in hell she’d actually eat it, of course. “Fucking hell, Mars, you’re terrible at this, what’d you do to my pasta??” she whined, stamping her foot against the floor and moving to discard the lot of it. “Its not even edible. Get out out out, I’m making real food, and you can’t be here to mess it up, you’re useless.” she muttered at him, placing her hands against his back to push him toward the living room, before busying herself with much more precise preparations on the sauce she’d set aside earlier, coaxing it into a careful balance, waiting until she was sure it was perfect before offering a different ladle to him. “Here, come try.” she demanded, trying to stifle the smile quirking at her lips. “And get the knife out of the ceiling, would you?” she scolded as she caught sight of it. Boys- so irresponsible.

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[MARS]

Mental note to Mars: Find boy in 21C. Kill boy in 21C. He had no idea who this boy was or why Remy even knew so much about his supposed to sexual prowess, but he didn't like it and he didn't like this boy. Thus, he would promptly locate him later this week and proceed to beat him within an inch of his life. Some would call it very mentally unhealthy. Most would call extremely mentally unhealthy. He couldn't care less. "I have done plenty of kissing and plenty of sex! I would not offer to teach you if I wasn't skilled enough to instruct you," Mars said matter of factly, as if the answer was obvious that she should feel like a fool for not realizing it sooner.

Some of that was a lie, by the way. Mars had indeed kissed before and had engaged in sexual acts; he'd even like to think that he was rather good at both of them. However, he was not that experienced. He had only made out with two different girls in his life and had sex less than six times. He was no expert. A beginner at best. Of course, there was no reason for Remy to know that, now was there?

"Why are you still insisting on him, anyways? We have already decided he is unfit. He is weak and a fool and a lesser man. If I must go down the hall and break his face in combat to prove it, I will do so gladly," Mars boasted, his fists already clenching hard enough so that his knuckles popped like firecrackers, more than ready to go deal out harsh Hyperion punishment. It would seem the more they discussed the subject, the more the jealously seemed to seep through, aggravating his already unstable state. He needed to prove to her that he was the only suitable candidate for this kissing and he had no idea why it was so imperative.

His mouth opened with another response before she began to push him out of the room, claiming that the pasta he helped out with was an utter travesty of the culinary arts. It was, he would definitely admit that. There was no argument there. However, the pasta was the last thing on his mind. He had come stomping back into the kitchen when she called him back, opening his mouth yet again to respond, but a ladle full of perfected pasta was shoved in front of his face.

Frowning, the boy sipped it; his eyes lit up in satisfaction, amazed by the taste. He sipped the rest of it down greedily before washing it down with a glass of water. "That...that was much more desirable than our previous batch. Clearly, this is a task more suited for someone like you. It's much too pedestrian for someone of my royal status. Also...." He paused for a moment, as if he was contemplating something deeply. Moving closer to Remy as he looked up at the ceiling contemplatively, his arm shot out and wrapped around the smaller girl's waist. His gray eyes looked into her emerald ones for barely a second before he dived in, pressing his lips against her own in a rather skillful kiss.

Words are meaningless. Actions are everything.

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