Tevun-Krus #4 - Space Opera

Smith & Jones, part 2

In case you missed it, last month, @AngusEcrivain debuted our new monthly series, Smith & Jones. Well, Smith , Jones, and their new female companion are at it again, this time Space Opera style. We hope you enjoy the second installment of Smith & Jones penned this month, by @parishsp!

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“…happens.” She finished as they stumbled to a stop.

The momentum of their forceful trip sent the trio skidding across the slick, metal floor. The gentlemen looked up at the gracefully, still standing redhead from their places on the floor. “Who in the bloody hell are you?” Smith spat as he clamored to stand.

Jones elbowed the now sleek pack into a more comfortable position as he stared wide-eyed at the man, “Mr. Smith, how dare you speak to… to…” Jones looked suddenly confused, “I do believe we have not been properly introduced, madam.” Putting his hand to his waist, he gave a little bow, “Mr. Archibald Jones at your service.”

“Jones! What are you wearing?” Smith exclaimed, pointing towards his comrade in the most rudely of fashions.

“It’s a spacesuit,” the misses replied, referring to the fitted suit the men wore. “Your clothing and weapons are subject to the loop. And the name’s Chris, by the way.”

Jones startled, the confused look still upon his face, “Chris?” he asked, “I say, that’s a man’s name.”

Smith interrupted, “Jones—“

Kris, one hand on hip, tilted her head towards her accuser. The tilt sent waves of red hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Not if it’s short for Christina, sir.”

“Jones, my lady,” Smith tried again.

“But why would you ruin a perfectly soft, feminine name such as Christina by replacing it with the name of a man?”

Chris stepped closer to Jones, “Are you saying I’m not a lady?”

“Well, you are dressed in men’s pants. Wait, why is your clothing unchanged?” For Chris was still dressed in her leather that left little to the imagination. It was not that Jones minder, per say, but the principle of the matter.

“Because I’m not affected by the loop same as y’all.”

“Because you started it, I suppose.” Jones spat rather venomously.

Chris’ mouth fell open, “Who pissed in your grits?”

Jones gulped air in surprise, “Such language!” he scoffed. “First your name, then that ridiculous attire, now—“

“MR. JONES!” Smith stated firmly.

Jones ceased his tirade, throwing his hands down, and causing his pack to shake, “Mr. Smith!” He returned, “What do you want?”

The two ceased fighting long enough to give Smith their attention only to find him very still, with a somewhat frightened look on his face. As their eyes followed his hand, their faces slowly transformed to match.  

“Holy—“ Chris started only to be cut off by Jones.

“What in the bloody hell?”

Smith inched across the platform, closer to his traveling mates, “Normally, this would be the time I would be so inclined to point out that your use of the English language is not suited for mixed company.”

Jones ignored him and instead looked over to Chris, shaggy brows furrowed over his matching brown eyes, “Missus Chris, would you care to explain our situation?” he spat out of the corner of his mouth.