( open ) gotta kiss myself i’m so pretty

[corviform]

WHO: ACTUAL ASTRONAUT GILBERT and YOU
WHERE: Various places in Maurtia Falls + Heropa.
WHEN: 1/29 ― 2/2
WHAT: Not actually an astronaut, but Gil thinks he is for the next few days.
WARNINGS: Please let me know if you do not want Gil flirting/making a move on your character somewhere in your comment. He won't on anyone under 18 or those who look it. Otherwise this is a train wreck in the making. Also slightly sexual content.

---

➊ THURSDAY MORNING | breakfast ( closed to kenzi )

[ It all happens so fast that Gil can barely recall what it is that hit him. He remembers stepping outside the apartment for two seconds to retrieve the newspaper, then a white, hot flash that knocked him down the small flight of stone steps, leaving him sprawled on the sidewalk for a minute. A couple of the locals rushed to his aid and began asking if he was alright, but Gil managed to convince them he was fine.

In fact, he feels just great. Their reaction is not something he had anticipated while watching the people in Maurtia Falls all this time.

Now he stands in the kitchen, the ironing board folded out with his shirt laid out against it while the iron heats up. He's nearly done preparing sausages and eggs, rolling the sausage over so it cooks properly all over. A little notebook is left on the counter near him.

And yes, he's shirtless. ]

➋ THURSDAY AFTERNOON - MONDAY | wherever, whenever ( maurtia falls & heropa )

[ He goes to work, of course, but as soon as he's done he doesn't even head back to his apartment. With his note in tow, Gil can be found in busy locations between Heropa and Maurtia Falls, nestled somewhere not too far from people and with his head buried in his notebook, scribbling away quickly. He'll be seen looking up often, watching everyone's every single movement with a deep-seated curiosity. Sometimes he'll tap his chin with his pen and other times he'll call someone or approach them, asking them the reasoning behind something like grabbing twenty packets of sugar from the coffee shop, or why they baby-talked their pet dog for two minutes straight.

He might have known the reasoning behind these acts once, but nothing seems to come to memory. Plus the fact the notebooks he's kept surveying human behaviour appear to be missing, which means his observation has to be restarted.

That's alright, though. Gil isn't having difficulty chatting it up with the locals in either city, especially in Heropa (and they don't mind that an imPort is stopping to make conversation with them). Anyone who comes across him might notice he's particularly friendly toward others. If not, he's likely to approach another imPort himself, getting in their space without as much as a second thought.

He seems friendly enough! ]

Comments

heropa; late afternoon; sometime

[welcome]

[Cecil likes the diners here in Heropa. There's something familiar about them; their shiny, red leather booths and the ubiquitous smell of fresh coffee and apple pie, even at two or three in the morning. When he's not out wandering the streets, letting his thoughts run to static and trying to maintain a pleasant face for all these strange new citizens, he's nursing some of that diner coffee and probably eating a little too much of the pie.

Sometimes Cecil is lost in the warmth of the crust, the soft crush of the fruit between his teeth, thinking not just about the food but about the man who would share it with him, who would reach across the table and stop him from overindulging, who would remind him gently that sometimes the line cooks distributed experimental diseases through the batter and so Cecil should probably slow it down.

But there was no danger of that here, or at least, not insofar as Cecil had experienced. Sadly.

He chews another forkful slowly; forlornly. He observes the traffic in the diner, particularly the young man scribbling furiously in a notebook at the counter. There were hardly any other customers at this time -- late afternoon being the twilight hour between lunch and dinner -- but the man kept looking up, glancing around, and then starting up again with fresh fervor.]

Sir -- might I ask -- are you a journalist?

[corviform]

[ Gil accidentally begins writing half of Cecil's question before realizing what he's doing. With a quiet sigh he scribbles it out and glances up to see the man who's addressing him, putting down the notebook temporarily. ]

Journalist?

[ He repeats, surprised by the question. He shakes his head quickly. ]

Oh, no, I'm just rewriting all the notes I've somehow misplaced.

[ His eyes shift to the notebook and then back to Cecil, offering a sheepish smile. ]

Am I bothering you?

[welcome]

[Cecil leans forward against his table, clearly interested.]

Not at all! Tell me about your notes.

[Who could this man be? Possibly an average imported citizen; possibly a squirrelly government agent -- he'd be happy with either, or both.]

[corviform]

[ The invitation is more than enough for Gil to scoot forward, getting a little invasive in Cecil's space. He flips his notebook to the first page and trails the page with his pen, indicating all that he's written through the day. It's... surprisingly a lot. There are a lot of question marks on the page, too. ]

I'm observing human behaviour in this world. Since I've been here it's always been both confusing, but fascinating.

Like... I've noticed there are quite a number of elderly humans who own small animals. They also converse with them like they would another human being. I've seen one woman carrying her dog in a bag. None of them have told me why exactly. Are humans that easily attached to life regardless of their forms?

[welcome]

[Cecil taps his chin.]

Well, people do tend to love their pets. I myself have a very charming cat. But are you saying that you're not human?

[He's not incredulous, despite the fact that this man looks just as human as anyone else. He's seen enough to know that appearance, like most other perceived information, doesn't mean much.]

[corviform]

I know it may not look it because of my appearance.

[ He sticks out his chest a little, proud as he continues: ] I'm Uranian... from the planet humans know as Uranus.

[welcome]

[His eyes light up. Fascinating!]

Oh! Really. Do you have some kind of mission here?

[corviform]

[ With a shake of his head: ]

I crash landed here about a year ago by accident. I've been waiting this whole time for my people to come and retrieve me, but in the meantime I've decided to observe this planet to bring back to Uranus. We've never made contact with Earth before.

[welcome]

A year! And with no government interference in all that time?

[Said incredulously. The authorities here are so lax. Ah, well.]

[corviform]

[ Gil furrows his brows, somewhat taken aback by Cecil's question and not sure how to answer it straight away. It's largely in part of the memories he has trouble remembering. ]

Are they supposed to? I thought it was something they exaggerated in human stories.

[welcome]

My government certainly knows its aliens. Of course, we usually leave them well enough alone. Unless they're prone to littering. Then they're subject to the same penalties as everybody else.

[corviform]

I'd never.

[ He pointedly looks at their surroundings. ]

I've noticed the ecosystem here is... fragile.

[welcome]

Oh? I've always thought our systems were pretty hardy around here. But then, I come from a desert. Thriving in the face of insurmountable odds is just part of the morning commute.

[corviform]

Oh?

[ He leans in, all ears.

And eyes, maybe. Cecil is pretty easy on them. ]

What is living in the desert like? It must be hotter than Florida.

[welcome]

[Cecil's totally oblivious, but his face does light up at the question.]

Oh, yes, but you get used to it. A person can get used to so many things if they just try. Hot days; cold nights. Surprise searches of your home. Collective dreams that probably mean nothing. You know?

[corviform]

[ He nods at first, but the latter gets a confused pause from him. ]

Not exactly... ah, "collective" dreams? Is that something that occurs often?