oculusriffs | ic contact for reverienet

Wait, I — he, I mean — he did what? Seriously?

[it isn't incredulous or anything — and while he still sounds fairly amused, it's easily overshadowed by a tentative, but still very genuine, curiosity. Dave would really like to hear about his alternate self. he also knows that the natural course that conversation would take would likely lead to his own Bro.]

[and that invites a new fear, alongside the usual ones he has when he thinks about it. Dave is afraid that broaching the topic would mess up how well the two of them have been getting along. but his question is already out there; all he can do is roll with it, and panic appropriately if it comes up.]

Yeah.

[He looks at Dave, cautiously. Slowly, he asks,]

I can tell you about it, if you want.

[he pauses, and it's probably pretty obvious that the gears are turning frantically. he is on the cusp of agreeing, and maybe there is even a thing or two he'd be willing to say about his Bro. maybe. the chatbots seem harmless enough. maybe the rocketboard? he doesn't know. maybe he could talk about all the mixing gear that littered the apartment.]

You sure I'm not interrupting?

[Dave can't stop himself from trying to dance around it anyway. but it isn't an outright rejection like it was earlier, either, so it's something.]

[He wonders if maybe he should say Dave is and give him that out. But then maybe Dave doesn't want the out?

Reading minds is hard.]

Yeah, it's no big deal. It's kind of nice to have someone to talk to while I work.

... Okay.

[he settles himself down, then, fixing his gaze on the scraps of replicator on the floor, hoping he's hiding his tension. Dave's also desperately hoping he isn't making a mistake by agreeing.]

[It isn't greatly hidden, but Dirk just kind of talks idly. It's easy to talk about his Bro, but kind of nervewracking when he's near Dave. Still, he tries, working at the parts.]

Specifically talking about the shitty skateboard, my bro had a lot of junk like that that manufactured over the years. He patented the technology for producing three dimensional jpeg artefacts, to make products shittier than was ever previously imaginable. He made a killing off them.

Not because anyone bought this garbage, obviously. But because they were so cheap to manufacture, their cost was actually negative, therefore miraculously netting him profit for every unit produced. He made so much money this way, he had enough to finance manned space missions to haul all of the hideous unwanted jpeg shit off the Earth, and launch it into the sun. But years thereafter, every now and then someone would report a stray shitty skateboard slowly drifting back into Earth's atmosphere.

People would pray they would burn up on reentry.

But they never did.

[that ... that is so completely outrageous, Dave can't help but lower his head in laughter again. it's one of the stupidest things he's ever heard, and on a scale he can't even fathom, and yet ... somehow, it's not at all off brand? it's enough so that he relaxes just a little, and is able to offer a little bit of commentary, instead of just listening.]

Man, I ran into the same damn thing in our session. I made a camera that gave me like a thousand grist instead of costing anything.

[Something tight releases in Dirk. He can breathe.]

Dude, I'd love to see that. That'd be hilarious.

Well...

[he was going to say, "maybe if we can escape off this station," but then he remembered what sort of state they'd left their session in. the only shot he has at fulfilling that request, he thinks, is if they are lucky enough to cross paths in the dream bubbles. his, maybe? he's not sure what happened to Dirk, and he doesn't really want to ask, either.]

Maybe I'll be able to figure out how to make another one. Weirder things have happened — like shitty skateboards floating down from space.

That'd be really cool. [He notices the reservations that Dave is showing. He doesn't want to push into it too much, so he just watches him out of the corner of his eyes as he works.]

I'll have to see what I can cook up, then.

[and he falls into a silence there for a little while, watching Dirk work, weighing his curiosity against what he'd been thinking was his better judgment.]

[it's curiosity that winds up winning.]

What other stuff did he do?

[He glances over at Dave.]

I could tell you about his movies, if you wanted. The Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff franchise.

... His movies.

[that would be a yes, there, Dirk.]

The ones that my tattoo is based on. [Evidently, Dave recognized it. Before he goes forward, he asks, curious,] Did you make movies?

No. I mean, I made Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but it was just a webcomic I drew whenever I had five minutes.

[which sort of puts the differences between the two of them in perspective. he can't imagine that any version of himself would put too much effort into anything SBaHJ on principle, but movies still sound like a lot more effort than dicking around with MSPaint when you're bored. it sounds like Dirk's bro racked up all sorts of absolutely ridiculous accomplishments, while he's. well, he's just Dave.]

A webcomic drafted up in five minutes sounds like the purest form of SBAHJ imaginable.

[Dave sees it as not as amazing; Dirk thinks it's perfect. He sounds like he wants to see them, in fact.]

[... hm. Dave thinks on that for a minute, then pauses to pat at his person again, like he was before he got hit with a very silly distaction. he pulls out a package of half-eaten Twizzlers. he also pulls out his most coveted item on this very dull space station: a pen he'd managed to pilfer from one of the empty rooms in the quarters.]

Lemme see your arm. [he doesn't have any paper handy, and Dirk's already put Hella Jeff on there. may as well offer to make it a whole comic.]

[HOLY SHIT

Dirk instantly holds his arm out. It's at the speed of a fangirl who just got the chance to have Tom Hiddleston sign her bosom. HE IS SO EXCITED.]

[dave stridleston.]

[Dirk deserves to see the full artistic process here, which means Dave's just gonna draw literally the first thing that pops into his head. and his only inspiration at the moment is the pile of replicator guts strewn on the floor.]

[unfortunately, that means it's a comic about Sweet Bro hooking himself up with some sick potrified pizza from a replicator that's literally shaped like a rear end. you get where this is going.]

[he adds Geromy for good measure, on the other side of Dirk's arm, safe from the other nonsense he just got done drawing. because Dave loves Geromy, and Geromy doesn't deserve this.]

[It doesn't take long for a smile to crack. About when the pizza is named. By the time the butt is being drawn, it's a grin. By the end of this, Dirk is laughing really, really hard.]

I am never washing this arm again, holy shit. Holy shit.

[An original, off-the-cuff, SBAHJ comic! On his arm! Right now! HE CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!]

[maybe Dave shouldn't find the fact that Dirk loves it so much surprising, considering the guy has an actual SBaHJ tattoo — and yet, he still sort of is. it's kind of nice.]

Just let me know if you ever need a touch-up, then.

[he's meaning that as a joke, but. he also has a feeling that Dirk might really hold him to that.]

Will the touch up make it increasingly shitty?

[God he hopes so]

Yeah, of course. Wouldn't be a proper comic touch-up if I didn't hold it to my usual rigorous standards.

Then I am absolutely down.

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