call me maybe

[nomoneystillproblems]

parker.peter@cdc.org
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you shut up granny hands

[nomoneystillproblems]

Not many, actually. Most people covered it before I got to help anyone. [He grins broadly at the woman, though the bags under her eyes are a slight cause for concern. Maybe they'll all start sleeping now that the bugs are in remission. And the murders should technically stop.

He fishes his ball from his pocket and tosses it her way.]

Do you need a tutorial?

[verifying]

[As exhausted as she is, it's easy for muscle memory to kick in as she catches the ball out of reflex, peering at the peculiar object closely before tossing it right back over in Peter's direction.]

Technically not, but how about we consider this a little pop quiz?

[nomoneystillproblems]

[He catches it one handed and gives her a questioning look.] I thought I was free of school in space.

[Guess not. Peter shrugs his shoulders and completes the distance between them, already working over the ball.] It's a little finicky, but usually if you get it right about— whoa, right there.

[And indeed. Impossibly the thing balloons up. Becomes the same pod that he'd awaken in (except not exactly the same, this one's free of holes from antsy feet. God he hope that doesn't show up on a bill somewhere.] And voila. Step inside the entrance there, and it'll blow mist at you. Bam. Cured.

[verifying]

[Well at least Hange's an attentive audience even when she's already well-aware of how the strange contraption is activated, watching as the ball grow and inevitably transform in a fully sized pod.]

If only such a convenience were available with other things. Like showers.

[She'll make her way into the pod at that, and it's only then that she tugs down her cloth, these extra precautions having long since been wired into her muscles even when the threat no longer remains. When the mist blows over her she'll make a point to breath in deep, doing so for several seconds before she's satisfied enough to step back out.]