fandomhighdorms | The empty spaces of the attics, Saturday morning

Mae had lots of exploring out in town by now, but not so much in the dorms building. The place was much bigger on the inside than she would have guessed from the outside (except the sixth floor, which was for some reason tiny). The attics had clearly been neglected for awhile, which made them extra interesting to Mae, and she even discovered an observatory at the far end!

There were always so many fun little places to explore, if you looked hard enough. Most people didn't -- maybe because the fun little places frequently had various little critters living in them. Like that green one that went scurrying right at her when she stepped back out of the observatory, teeth bared and aimed for her leg.

She caught it -- somehow, miraculously -- by the back of the neck, and held it aloft.

"Oh my god. Look at you! You're amazing!"

The thing twisted in her grip, trying to sink its teeth into her arm.

"I'm going to name you Little Joe."

[ooc: for one. When the inevitable biting happens, another more open post will go up!]

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"I don't know what one of those is," Mae said cheerfully. "But if it's even close to one of these then it sounds awesome."

Little Joe snarled at Vette, flailing its claws.

"Look, he likes you!"

See Vette. See Vette's expression light up even more.

"Aw, he's feisty!" And yes, she was totally making her way over to investigate further. "Hi there, little guy! Are you a feisty critter? I bet you are."

Poor Little Joe.

"His name is Little Joe," Mae said proudly. "I think he's one of those little monster things people kept talking about."

They mentioned the venom. Mae probably should have known better.

Mae did not know better.

"Little monster things?" Vette squinted and leaned in for a better look, just out of range of those snappy, chompy teeth. "But he doesn't look very monstery. Some of the stuff from home, sure. This guy has nothing on a lylek."

Because lyleks were like the hellspawn borne of all things awful in the galaxy.

This guy was cute.

"I also don't know what that is," Mae said.

Little Joe twisted in her hands, shrieking.

"I think he's hungry."

"That shriek definitely sounds hungry," Vette decided, looking thoughtfully at the writhing, twisting, gnashing little beast. "What do you suppose they eat? Think he'd like tacos?"

Mae, you'd created a monster with those tacos.

"Who wouldn't like tacos?" Mae asked. She leaned in closer to Little Joe's angry little face. "What do you think, Little Joe? Tacos? Taaacooooooooooos."

Little Joe chomped at her nose. Mae just managed to pull her face back again before he could.

"Better get him some quick. He's hangry."

"I wonder how long he's been up here," Vette mused, turning to amble back toward the stairwell. "I mean, they don't exactly have a kitchen up here, right? No tacos for Little Joe in the attic."

"I bet he lives in the walls," Mae said, following behind with Little Joe held at arm's length. "He's little enough to sneak through the vents."

Little Joe managed to lock his toe claws into the door jam, drawing Mae up short. If he could just -- get -- his teeth --

"Hey buddy," Mae said. "It's okay, we're here to hel -- ow."

"Ow? What ow?" Vette turned around, squinting a little. "He didn't getcha, did he?"

She doubled back, making some grabby hands.

"Here, I'll take him for a bit. Oof, that looks nasty. I might have a kolto patch for that somewhere in my- hey!"

Little Joe had very determined chompers, apparently.

Glomgold snatched Little Joe away again. "No!" he shouted, in a fairly excessive Scottish accent. "He's mine!"

Little Joe slipped right out of his hands and ran off, cackling.

"Now look what you've done!"

There was a pause. And then a long, slow squint before Scrooge replied, in an accent that was at least somewhat less excessive but no less Scottish, "What I've done? I think if you take a moment to examine the situation, you'll find that you were the one who dropped it, Glomgold."

Scrooge McDuck was never to blame.

... At least not where incidents involving Glomgold were concerned.

Glomgold was extremely good at incidents, yes.

"I was the one who caught it, you mean! More than you've ever managed on your little adventures!"

He elbowed past Scrooge to start down the stairs.

"And I would have kept it too, if you hadn't distracted me!"

"More than I've ever caught? More than I have ever caught?"

How did this duck always manage to rub Scrooge the wrong way? Ah, yes, Scrooge remembered. It was because he was awful. He started along right after him, returning that elbowing with an absolutely subtle and completely not at all accidental bodycheck of his own.

"This from the one who spends all his time coming up with new ways of wasting my time!"

They were going to go on like this for a while, folks.

Sorry about that.

The empty spaces of the attics, Saturday morning

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