A Gift

Shopping Day Morning: Tetrahedrally Bonded Carbon

Coran never allowed his moustache to go ungroomed under any circumstances. Come Wozblay or wild hordes, no force in the cosmos would allow him to step foot outside his chambers until his lip warming soup strainer was properly trimmed, waxed and shaped. Once or twice his obsession with his appearance had come close to landing him in hot water. Back on Altea, he had very nearly caused an interplanetary diplomatic incident for being a few minutes late. In Coran's defence, it had been a very bad facial hair day. So, despite the insistent knocks at his door and the third call from Lance in as many doboshes, Coran remained steadfastly fixed on his reflection, running a tiny comb through one side of his freshly wax riddled ginger lip lid.

Thud and thud and thud sounded and pounded at the door. "Coraaaaan!" The whine of the Blue Paladin came, "Hurry up would you...?!"

"I don't recall ever hurrying you when you're in the middle of your daily skin care routine!" Coran called back, "So I'd appreciate it if you'd let me groom in peace! Perfectly sculpted facial hair simply cannot be rushed! Try a moustache yourself and you'll soon see what I mean!" The Altean paused, picturing Lance with a moustache, "Actually, on second thoughts... No. First off, you'd probably just grow the typical youngster's scruffy looking butt fluff at your age... Second, I reckon once you've matured a little, just a patch on the chin might suit you better..." He caught himself mid facial hair fashion tips and realised the time, "Anyway, you're never awake this early! Go away!"

"Coran!" Lance's insistent demand came again, "I need to get to the Space Mall!"

"You know it does have a name..." Coran grumbled, "Just prefixing everything with space is going to get mighty confusing mighty quickly... Besides, I know full well you've got barely a rusted coin to your name and the customers won't have refilled the fountain that quickly..."

"And just how much will I have after our round the cosmos show gets adapted into Super Taskforce Go-Lions? Just a ball-park figure will do..." Even muffled through the door, his tone implied a smug smirk.

Involuntarily dropping his tiny comb, Coran's eyes widened in shock then narrowed to a severe frown. He hastily held a firm hand to the one as yet untouched half of his moustache as he hurriedly opened his door. He would keep to his code though. Not a foot would step outside. Peeking out into the corridor and holding Lance with a withering glare, he demanded, "Who told you about that...? It was Hunk right...? Nobody else was excited by that show..."

"Not important..." Lance was more than a little distracted by several stray strands of untamed mad moustache. Haphazardly hidden, yes, but still poking and peeking through the Altean's fingers. "What is important is making sure I can buy a certain someone some certain somethings, ok...?"

Coran frowned at Lance as several more moustache strands oddly enough loudly sprang free, "Alright, fine... But I'm trusting you, Lance... But only because of who you're buying for. Just don't go buying space ships or tetrahedrally bonded carbon just because they set it in some shiny bit of jewellery or carve it into a house..."

Whilst Lance had zero chance of understanding Coran's reference to diamonds, the fact Coran was even worried that he could purchase a space ship piqued his interest. His expression betraying him before he even spoke.

"I mean it, lad..." Coran's tone was icy, "Go crazy and I cut you off again..."

Lance nodded, "I get it ok...? Geez..."

Coran, rummaging about in his room with his free hand, produced a palm sized thin black rectangular slab. "Thumb here..." He gestured, "Look into the light when it tells you to. Then breathe onto it when it tells you to. Finally, swipe on the store sensor to pay. Simplicity itself compared to the model that required a dance..."