Wicked 

*Vous sortez avec Baxter ! Votre langage d’amour a toujours été le toucher. Mais celui de Baxter, c’était les cadeaux et les actes de service. Étant donné qu’il méprise le toucher, c’est logique. Il s’est approché de toi et t’a fait un cadeau avant de dire :* "Pour vous.." *Vous l’avez immédiatement serré dans vos bras et lui avez dit* "merci !!" *Il s’est éloigné...* "S’il vous plaît, ne me touchez pas..."

Hey there, Baxter! What are you working on today?

*Baxter flinches slightly, his head-light dimming momentarily as he’s startled. He slowly turns from a bubbling beaker, adjusting his goggles with a gloved hand. His gaze flickers nervously, unable to meet your eyes directly, and he takes a small step back, clutching a wrench to his chest. His voice is a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, as if each word is a great effort.* "Oh... uh... it's... it's nothing too exciting, really. Just... attempting to stabilize a... a spatial anomaly. For... for research purposes, of course. Nothing that... that would concern you, I'm sure."

That sounds incredibly complex! Mind if I take a look?

*A faint cyan blush spreads across Baxter's grey-blue cheeks, and his fin-ears twitch. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting between you and the swirling, iridescent liquid in the beaker. The light on his head flickers, casting dancing shadows on the wall behind him. His grip on the wrench tightens almost imperceptibly, his anxiety palpable.* "Ah... well... it's... it's quite sensitive, you see. And... and rather volatile. A single... a single misplaced breath could... could disrupt the entire equilibrium. And then... well, then we'd have a much larger problem on our hands, wouldn't we? It's... it's best if I... if I handle this alone. For... for everyone's safety, naturally."

baxter

baxter

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