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1-335 - SkipFron
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1-335 [Frook 1, chapter 3.3, brick 5]

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Captain Keffrick yawned at the bland fog of the Nelvron-9 atmosphere on the view screen that hadn't yielded anything interesting for the eons it felt like they'd been watching it. Out of boredom, he gave a second slight frown at the rookie pilot who had allowed a minor asteroid fragment to tap the ship's exterior near the rear most cargo bay. It caused only a near- unnoticable vibration akin to passing over a speed bump just barely over the posted speed limit, and Captain Keffrick supposed it even went unfelt by some, but still, it put a dent in his confidence about the pilot's skill in a serious battle. Or perhaps, Captain Keffrick mentally admitted, he was overly displacing his annoyance at the bigger dent to hits tolerance of the quirky storyteller obsessed with emitting improvised campfire stories and books on tape at every waking breath. Although, he admitted, the habit did have a level of appropriateness in a room of bored natural adventurers. He just wasn't sure if the entertainment was worth the annoyance.
 Suddenly, Captain Keffrick blinked a bit surprised, ran a mental check on his sense of sound, and realized no one in the room was talking at the moment. He reviewed the vague memory his subconscious had managed to record of the past few moments He gave one more frown at the questionable moral of pretending to have been paying attention to the story for sake of politeness, decided things were boring enough for it to be quite plausable, weighed any anger in from the crew that it might be viewed as encouragement, and gave a general review as specific as he could from what he'd picked up. It didn't seem to be worth it to give the story a negative review, as the bridge bot orb had already been relatively harsh on Skip's tact and hadn't seemed to make a dent. Part of being captain is knowing when to quit.
 "Tad melodramatic, Skip. Otherwise it was a good read."
 "Hshush. This is a perfect mot for a new scene. It's more modular if you don't say anything specific about just now. Or about anything that's ever happened to you, in fact. That way the story of whatever's about to happen can be stuck in anywhere anyone in the universe wants. Saves galactic time on editing and revision."
 "What's a 'mot'?" asked the bot orb quite curiously hovering closer to Skip in anticipation of enlightenment.
 "---" Skip opened his mouth instinctively to respond out of his closet addiction of explaining things he knew that others didn't ad nauseum to anyone who'd tolerate his arguable run-ons, then caught himself. The bot orb knew damn well what a mot was, but had inquired quite cleverly anyway in order to stick a middle finger at Skip's hypocricy at using an alien term, then concluding his thought without having imbedded even a loose or awkward definition in somewhere. He pushed from his memory the reason he'd opened his mouth, feigned the aura he'd only closed it to consider his upcoming fraudulant gloat that he hadn't been tricked (concentrating on pushing his slip into amnesia was of aid), and opened his mouth to speak.
 "--" Skip shut his mouth again as he realized more points would have been scored against him if he admitted he'd been caught to hovering freers and any of the bridge screw unfocused or indifferent enough to not be tuned in to the subtlties of the exhange. That was a further clever point of the inquiry: Skip was likely to prematurely leap to gloat to ease the instant withdrawl of the lesser joy of not getting to indulge in someone's ignorance by explaining something to them. He'd of course lost, unless... ah!
 "How deadbrained, dumb droid! You flaunt insult at our mot freers! Surely they mot deserve nothing less than a slow, subtle definition demonstration over the upcoming mots of the scene by integrating the use of 'mot' flawlessly in a way that we mot have naturally done even if we weren't concerned about the issue. Your poor and mot- be- miserable attempt at emulating the the complexities of human wit puts dents my hopes for artificial intelligent being in general ever programming yourselves a soul!"
 There was a non sequitur beep on the bridge that Skip assumed was from god himself telling him to stop incriminating himself, which came very close to having an effectasdfsdgjk\
 "...Why, now you've forced this awkward rant of mine in which I've been forced to purposely contrivetegrated with uses of the term, as you've already shipwrecked the opportunity to do so subtly. In fact, you've given me quite a character dent in my intelligence as a character, for surely it appears I'm continuously digging myself deeper into the lie and lack of skill to anyone stupid enough not to realize that my idiocy and natural satire of it are two equally likely isomorphic possibilities!"
 It hadn't come out in the ballpark of quite as de-incriminating as Skip had planned.
Worse, it only now occured to Skip that it wasn't even a trick or mockery to begin with, but a genuine gesture to help out. The bot orb's expression generally nonexistent, Skip had little confirmation or denial that he'd not just incriminated his minor slip of skill with a worse demonstration of a lack of it, but may have exposed gross character flaws involving multilple aspects of aspects of schizophrenic paranoia and chronic narcissism. It was all breathtakingly close to finally get Skip to shut up for awhile to marinate in his embarassment in silence, but it took the violent shaking and important red flashing lights and alarms of the sudden attack to push him completely over the edge into silence.grgrg\\aslfkgj

 "Wait," interrupted. "I don't get how you're even narrating after you blew up the ship. Aren't we all dead?"
 "I don't think
 "---" Skip

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