[Public, video]

[Dillon looks a bit - frazzled. Which is kind of impressive, for someone whose hair is always perfectly neat and whose shirts are constitutionally incapable of holding wrinkles. He has managed to put his on inside-out, though, and his shoulders are sagging, and he has a gelatinous pastel-purple thing with at least four tentacles clinging to the the side of his face. It has no apparent skull but bright white human-like buck teeth, and abyssal black eyes from which no light escapes at all.

It giggles. For a moment there's a flickering, like static - only it's not the comm that's affected. It's like the reality of Dillon's room went momentarily on the fritz. And then it's adorable again. Still.]

...does anybody know how to train a baby eldritch horror?

[He KNOWS one of you gave him this for Christmas. He. Knows. But that's not important right now.]


[Private to the Admiral]

By the way, can I add one more thing to my gift list? Since you've been delivering them kind of staggered.

For the new girl, Tiffany. I'd like to give her a copy of the gospels - just the gospels - with like, really nice leather binding and gilt edges and stuff. I don't think she's had a lot of well-made things. A translation she'd be comfortable with, one of the modern-but-poetic versions. Jerusalem Bible or New KJV, maybe? You decide.