~ Chapel Perilous ~

[Malaclypse 666]

Planet Curacoa,
Orbital Spa and Cruise Resort,
Fifth Floor Balcony,

A row of deck chairs faces the stunning ocean vista. Two of the chairs are occupied.

*Dis, what in Thud do we need a suite and a conference room for? We're all about 30 seconds apart via bloody Fnordnet!*

*Shut up and enjoy the view, Sophie. How else would we get Malaclypse out of Baffin to attend? He'll spend the whole bloody time fishing, after he cleans us out of caviar!*

*Meh. He said the decision was up to us anyway. Why'd you invite the old fart?*

*Dunno, Sophie. For all his old-fartness, that silly Geode has done something to his head. Primates may be stinky, but they have one thing we don't.. intuition.*

Incoming transmission, direct beam:

*Woo hoo, gals! Sylvia inbound. I'm two minutes from touchdown. You should be able to see my four pink exhausts any second!*

Dis and Sophie "peer" upwards. *What the... is that one of those bloody Turannic Volvos? She's been a busy gal!*

*Hey, there's no moss on a rolling globe, Soph! The girl just got resurrected. Let her have her fun!*

*Do you expect any more of the F-Troop to show, Dis?*

*I dunno, Soph. Contact has been sketchy. We'll give Cortana and Susan the rest of the day. If they don't show by then, we hash it out by ourselves. Pass the sunscreen, will you?*

*Tee hee. Already worried about your skin, and you don't even have any yet. You're a hoot, Mama!*

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