18085/How Does A Dinosaur Get Pimples

How Does A Dinosaur Get Pimples
Date of Scene:	28 May 2024
Location:	Earth-65,000,000 - Gothasaurus City - Megalo Island - Ambopteryx Burger
Synopsis:	The world might never know the answer, but America DOES show Koriand'r how dinosaurs make burgers (from aurochs-- probably).
Cast of Characters:	America Chavez, Koriand'r

---

America Chavez has posed:
                              How It Started                              

There's a knock on the door of Koriand'r, fearsome space princess turned Titan's, dorm.

*rap rap*

Waiting for her there is America Chavez, fearsome spacetime princess turned part-time Titan, leaning against the door frame and dressed in a red and white striped crop tank and a denim jacket with star-spangled shoulders, complemented by a pair of dark blue short-shorts decorated with stars down the side and a comfy pair of red, white and blue sneakers. Her arms are crossed over her chest. Her expression is that casually aloof thing she does where she looks like she might either be amused or pissed or just ambivalent and, much like an exquisite piece of abstract art, is open to the interpretation of the viewer.

A brow lifts.

"Sup," she offers, and then throws a thumb over her shoulder in gesture.

"I'm going out to lunch."

And just like that, the tattoos on the inside of her wrist start to glow, and a great, big, blue star portal churns to life behind her, exactly where her thumb points.

"You wanna come?"

                              How It's Going                              

The truth is, even though there's countless universes in the world, many of them are very similar. They follow similar beats, if you will, have similar major players, because most of them are minor variations of another universe it branched off of, like a stream splitting from a river.

The further adrift, the greater the change. Or, sometimes... sometimes things are almost exactly the same as the world you know, except for one key difference.

This brings us to AMBOPTERYX BURGER, one of the hottest restaurant chains on Earth, themed after famed and gritty vigilante superhero AMBOPTERYX MAN who prowls the streets of GOTHOSAURUS CITY beating the depraved carnivores that prowl the streets into a bloody pulp to rehabilitate them. Or something. Honestly America didn't really read too much into that.

The point is it's a giant burger restaurant and everything is like three times their size because everyone here is evolved from dinosaurs, as Dino-God intended.

Of course -- there are all manner of sizes of dinosaurs, so after America places her order to the pimply-faced anklyosaurus grumpily manning the register (how does a dinosaur get pimples? the world will never know), she makes her way to one of the smaller tables designed for reptilians -not- the size of a house and flops back into it, hooking one arm over the top of the booth as she slides her incredibly oversized bag across the table top.

"Best place for a cheeseburger," she asides very calmly to her friend, as if that will explain everything. There's a lot of people gawking at the weird, sapient mammals, but, well. Who can blame them?

It's -weird-.

Koriand'r has posed:
THEN

"Lunch?" Koriand'r wonders with a high lift of thick, orange brows.

"... where?"

NOW

"And they're-- are there cows here--?"

It took Kori a few minutes to get ready. A lot of fews, if we're being honest! This is because - as royalty (in exile) - she instinctively understands the importance of dressing for the occasion, the destination. And the occasion's casual: it's just lunch, after all; nothing fancy. Nothing that warrants anything particularly complex or expensive.

The destination, though.

That is what inspired those delays.

"I'm not opposed," she assures, vivid orange back and shoulder muscles rippling just so as she reaches across the table to part the bag and peek inside. "I have eaten many meats in my time."

It isn't every day that she gets a chance to visit GOTHOSAURUS CITY, the dark heart of Earth-65,000,000, after all.

A few faintly flickering tresses tumble free of her sabretooth head cowl/shawl; she absently brushes them aside as she starts pulling dino-sized food out of the bag. "I WOULD like to see the cow that could produce something like this though..."

The rest of her thick, gently burning curls spill down her back or course off of her shoulders, unbound by her cowl. Dyed black fur and the bright, cherry red of her bikini clash sharply against one another against the fiery canvas of her skin. Despite its assemblage of strings and triangles looking worn and ragged to the point of imminent failure -- as if lashed together with minimal tools and maximal desperation ages ago -- the whole outfit is a rocksteady remnant of a modeling campaign for the Plunder family's fall fashion line four years back. She left the club at home; no matter the destination, she can't imagine it'd be appropriate to walk around with brandished weapons.

Dressing for the destination definitely means avoiding felonies.

America Chavez has posed:
"Pretty sure they're aurochs."

The ambivalent "who knows?" shrug that follows this does not exactly inspire -confidence- that this is, in fact, what the burgers are made of, but, well.

In life, sometimes you need to take some risks.

America, at least, seems to be pretty okay with it, whatever 'it' actually is. -Whatever- it is, it's a -lot- of meat, as Kori soon discovers as she peers into that bag to find a wax-wrapped grease-smeared burger thrice as big as her head waiting for her within those brown paper depths.

There's also fries. Are they made of potatoes? Unclear. They -smell- good.

They are -also-, just. Unnecessarily large. Also they're zig-zagged into shapes that look like little bat (AMBOPTERYX) wings. It's very cute.

"Things went different here about a few million years back. Extinction event never happened, humans never evolved, dinosaurs started replacing humans in the" her wrist swivels "gaps in spacetime instead. Vacuums get filled. Just how it goes."

Brown ringlets of hair bouncing with the tilt of her head, America considers her bright and orange-y friend as she unpacks their chosen orders. This gives her a good opportunity to -yet again- eye Kori's chosen outfit for the occasion, as she has done -at least- five times since the Tamaranean changed. At -least-.

Once again, she finds herself pursing her lips and squinting in a manner best described as 'flummoxed.'

"So you just have a whole-ass caveman chic look lying around, huh?" she wonders, because this, to her, is the most bizarre thing here today. A second passes. Those intense, brown eyes get a certain -look- to them.

"You know dinosaurs eat cavemen, yeah?"

NOTE: they do not

probably.

Koriand'r has posed:
"... what's an 'oar--'"

Crinkling ceases. Glowing green eyes snap from the bag, meeting America's with a lift of burning brows.

And then - amidst sparkles of emerald mischief - the alien twists full, reddish-orange lips into a knowing smirk. "-- oh, no-- no, no, no, Miss America," she chides, triumphant and finger-wagging. "Garfield has gotten me one too many time with these-- these word tricks-- I won't fall for it this time!"

Smirking becomes proud beaming-- but only for a moment. Nobody likes a sore winner, after all.

"'Who knows' it is."

Despite the massive size of-- well, everything in there, Kori handles each enormous new treat with the utmost care as she unbags it, setting it on the table between them. After nudging the bag aside, she sloo o o o w l y lowers her head, getting down to the burger's eye-level-- and then tilting, turning herself to-- yes--

-- put her head next to the steaming, greasy heap.

Just to see, albeit with a sidelong look.

"It's incredible-- just a few small changes, and the dominos keep falling," she muses, unwrapping the burger, "and falling, and falling," and unwrapping, "and... falling..." and unwrapping, and unwrapping--

"Oh!

"... wow."

Again, Kori gets eye-level with it; just for a moment, this time. She's less interested in comparing than planning; whatever it's made of, it is most certainly appetizing.

"Anyway, it's more of a partial-ass look," Kori deadpans once she's looking at America again. Picking a piece of patty from the whole, she pops the meat into her mouth and chews, thoughtfully. "It was for an advertising campaign; there were limits to the amount of risky they could get! Still, though-- what great luck that they let me keep it, right?" Her eyes flick down as she swallows; she gestures at herself, grinning as her gaze bounces back to America. "I don't know what I would've worn, otherwise; I've never been anywhere with dinosaurs. ... though--"

Plucking a piece of bun from the burger, Kori gives the Traveler a teasing smile.

"-- I DO know enough to know that I'm safe, despite your cruel attempts at sowing terror--!" Drawing her fingers back-- telegraphing-- she gives it a moment before flicking bread towards her fellow Titan.

"I'm a cavewoman," she reminds America.

"If I must fear anything, it's the fiendish mind of my clever, well-travelled friend."

America Chavez has posed:
Kori beams proudly in her triumph at dodging what may have been a dreaded instance of Word Trickery.

America responds as a good sport should, by flipping Kori off.

Affectionately.

The smile's not on her lips, but it is in her eyes as her Tamaranean friend wonders over the Jurassic majesty of her double pounder. Amusement glints in that typically-apathetic dark brown gaze for a rare few moments -- as if, for a few moments, one might assume that the whole reason America brought Koriand'r here was simply because of how much she appreciates the enthusiastic way the space princess -reacts- to everything new and unexpected. Like she's, dare one say it, fond of it.

It's an absurd notion, of course, which is why the gruff Utopian swiftly looks away to get her hands on her own DINO DAMAGE COMBO, dragging out that greasy slab of beef(probably)a nd bread and cheese and assorted fixings. She makes the process of eating it more manageable by tearing off a chunk through the marvel of super-might, taking a big bite of her big burg while Kori speaks.

"mmf," is the little snort that America offers at Kori's deadpan riposte. A smirk tugs at lips glistened with burger grease before she swallows, and dabs at her mouth with her napkin.

"Cave-woman-," the multiversal vagabond corrects herself, offering a wink in return for that teasing smile.

"S'not a bad look on you. Me though, pretty sure you coulda gotten Sauron to give you his best dino-makeover and you'd still stand out, princess." This, she states with that flat-toned certainty; as Kori proclaims her to be a CHAOS AGENT attempting to DECEIVE HER, she arches a brow and folds arms over her chest. Gradually, America leans her upperbody forward across the tiny-dino accommodations of their table, brow ever-lifting as she does.

"Okay, don't believe me," she remarks, with a -dead-eyed, serious stare-. She doesn't even -blink-. "See how sure you are when Dino Luthor comes strolling down looking for a nice afternoon snack."

A second passes. And then, true or not, America commits fully to the bit by blowing her friend a kiss.

"Don't worry. Either way, I'll cover your partial-ass. I like your partial-ass."

Koriand'r has posed:
"And I like your whole-ass," comes with another satisfied, eye-gleaming grin.

And is followed by a pause.

Which comes with furrowing brows.

Along with pursing lips--

"-- that isn't really how that works, is it--?" she stage-whispers, shielding her mouth with her hand, lest any of these strange saurians she's never met before hear, or see her--!

Regardless of how it works, Kori still takes this opportune closeness to tap the tip of her index finger to the point of America's nose to answer that smugly blown kiss.

"If Dino Luthor DOES come, we'll beat him together. -- And then, possibly, be fugitives, together-- Dino Luthor isn't the Dino President, is he--?" She looks left, right, all around, squinting--

"-- is Dino America a Dino Democracy?" she wonders, whispering to America in earnestness now. "If everything evolved DIFFERENTLY..."

She lets the thought linger after trailing, chewing on it silently.

This lasts for maybe three seconds before she remembers that she has an absurd amount of actual food for non-figurative chewing. Pulling off a larger chunk of burger layers, she says, "Either way -- no matter the government, dominant species, or our respective safety -- I am happy to be here, sticking out perhaps ten percent more than my very sarcastic friend-- even though I'm not the one who didn't think to wear a star-spangled cavewoman bikini to the Dinosaur Earth--..."

The smile accompanying her sass burns so bright that there's simply nowhere for sarcasm to hide as she pops a chunk of something into her mouth.