She shifts, so she's not completely hunching in on herself like a NEET without a computer chair to use as a comfort blanket would anymore but almost sitting like a normal person who is participating in a discussion would, and briefly puts her hand to her face so she can gnaw a bit on one thumb.
And then, with a grunt, leans forward, as one eye opens, revealing a blood red iris with eight bright, shining white pupils, and suddenly there's a whole translucent three-dimensional render of the Milky Way galaxy in the space between them, out of nowhere, from nothing, with a giant red arrow pointing to a single spot on it with the words "THIS IS EARTH" flickering above it. Her eye jerks to the side, and then the galaxy shivers, rotates, and is ... no longer the Milky Way. A new arrow appears, in puce. The words "THIS IS US (probably)" flicker to life above it.
Her eye closes, but the display remains. "Deal with it," she says, leaning back against the cave wall and smiling in that rude sort of way someone does when they know they're right but already expect the other person in the conversation will disbelieve them on principle anyway and thus find said other person the equivalent of a small, yippy dog of some kind, rather than a person with any sense at all.
no subject
White sighs again. "So stubborn."
She shifts, so she's not completely hunching in on herself like a NEET without a computer chair to use as a comfort blanket would anymore but almost sitting like a normal person who is participating in a discussion would, and briefly puts her hand to her face so she can gnaw a bit on one thumb.
And then, with a grunt, leans forward, as one eye opens, revealing a blood red iris with eight bright, shining white pupils, and suddenly there's a whole translucent three-dimensional render of the Milky Way galaxy in the space between them, out of nowhere, from nothing, with a giant red arrow pointing to a single spot on it with the words "THIS IS EARTH" flickering above it. Her eye jerks to the side, and then the galaxy shivers, rotates, and is ... no longer the Milky Way. A new arrow appears, in puce. The words "THIS IS US (probably)" flicker to life above it.
Her eye closes, but the display remains. "Deal with it," she says, leaning back against the cave wall and smiling in that rude sort of way someone does when they know they're right but already expect the other person in the conversation will disbelieve them on principle anyway and thus find said other person the equivalent of a small, yippy dog of some kind, rather than a person with any sense at all.