What Do You Say No. 2: Favorite Parting Lines?
What have been some of your favorite lines uttered by your character (or other people’s characters) as they leave in a huff?
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Sermon: Magpies for memes
You don’t have time. You can’t be bothered. Why waste your time? Time’s too precious. Your attention’s overstimulated by tweets, snaps, slacks, grams, swipes, and Skypes. If you can’t consume information or distribute your thoughts in 142 characters or less, you’ll explode. It’s pointless. Where’s the joy in nurturing a character concept from the nugget…
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It’s everyone’s favorite huffer! Wait. That doesn’t sound right. Anyways, there’s nothing better for a flounce offscreen than a proper “We Are Not Amused” accent. Here’s hoping the below amuse you, readers.
Leucohyle exits the IND Temperantia, in a mild state of what can only be described as ‘kerfluffle’. She is speaking rapidly in that quasi-mad way that people with wireless PDA connections frequently exhibit. “I I am -telling- you there is is a a a -contagion- out there on this this -ship- and and it’s just sort of -floating- there and… what do you mean? No I I didn’t -board- what are you -mad- did you hear me I I said -contagion-.” Pause. “W-well good day to you as well!” The last line is delivered in a shrill, squeaky manner, and she sputters a few times before getting a hold of herself.
Blink. Blink. Bl-ink. Leucohyle’s sparse eyebrows knit across her circuit-traced forehead with a force that could move starships. There are a few more blinks. “Sir,” she says, primly. “I’ve no position, l-literal or or metaphorical, that would make use of any talents, mentioned or implied, th-that you may have. I repair complex-machineries-and-construct-multipurpose robots. I have no unfilled niches for ‘fighting’ ‘being inebriated’ and and or ‘expressing as many archaic Earth-Eurasian racially-based epithets as possible in one conversation’.” Sniff.
“Well. Why don’t you, whilst you are on your way, consider why, if I am so ineffective, why -I- am referred to as this station’s robotic genius, why -I- won the Expo, why -I- have a successful business. An Intelligence does not need to be self-aware, and anything that is self-aware should not be sold and forced to serve,” Leucohyle pipes, voice raising in both pitch and speed, and accent reaching ‘we are not amused’ levels. “My robots do -not- make mistakes. I do not solely produce pilots; if you were -paying attention-, I’ve only bloody built the one and it functions -very well-. But, underestimate me if you like, it makes no never mind to me. I will continue onwards without your approval. Good day, sir.”
Leucohyle raises one sparse eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by the outburst. “If I were going to to call you primitive, -sir-,” she pipes, “I would have called you primitive directly. Although it seems that you’re putting forth quite a hearty demonstration of your evolutionary state or lack thereof.” She cants her head to Kaden, and then shrugs to Ladek. “If I build something for the purpose of serving -me-, and and make it sentient, then there is no guarantee that they will choose to serve -me-. To force, coerce, or otherwise cajole a sentient mind is a shame upon sentience itself.” Omicron keeps its eyes upon both men. “I find your speaking of me as though I am not directly here, as well as your usage of the words ‘no offense’ after an offensive comment to be ironic, in the sense that such a behaviour is, in and of itself, quantifiable as ‘socially awkward’. And and people tell me I’m missing -so much- by avoiding mind-altering substances. -Yes-, your latest charge seems to be faring quite well.” Pip. “That was -sarcasm-. Good day, gentlemen.”